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ntorattij  of  J^ittaburgt} 

arlington  Memorial  Library 

.aHH^.i;-...^..e^«..o. 


THE 

COLUMBIAN  orator: 

CONTAINING 

A  VARIETY   OF 

ORIGINAL  AND  SELECTED  PIECES; 

TOGETHER  WITH 

RULES: 

CALCULATED 

TO   IMPROVE  YOUTH    AND   OTFTFRS  IN  THE 

ORNAMENTAL    AND  USEFUL 

ART  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


By  CALEB  BINGHAM,  A,  M. 

Author  erf  the  American  Preceptor,  Young  Lady's  Accidence,  &c 


"Cato  cultivated    ELOQUETiCE,  as  a  necessary    mean    for   defending  THE 
RIGHTS  OF  THE  PEOPLE,  and  for  enforcing  good  Counsels." 

ROLLIN. 


Stereotype  Edition. 


BOSTOJ^: 

printed    for    CALEB    BINGHAM    AND    CO. 

ABd  Sold  at  their  Book-Store,  No.  43  Corohill.     . 


t817. 


DISTRICT  OP  MASSACHUSETTS,  TO  WIT  : 

BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  that  on  the  twentieth  day  of 
November,  A.  D.  1810,  and  in  the  thirty-fifth  Year  of  the  In- 
dependence of  the  United  States  of  America,  Caleb  Bing- 
ham of  the  said  District,  has  deposited  in  this  Office  the  title 
of  a  Book,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as  Author,  in  the 
words  following,  to  wit :  "  The  Columbian  Orator  :  con- 
taining a  variety  of  original  and  selected  pieces  ;  together 
with  rules  ;  calculated  to  improve  youth  and  others  in  the 
ornamental  and  useful  art  of  eloquence.  By  Caleb  Bing- 
ham, A.  m.  author  of  the  American  Preceptor,  Young  Lady's 
Accidence,  &c.  "  Cato  cultivated  eloquence,  as  a  necessary 
mean  for  defending  the  rights  of  the  people,  and  for  enforcing 
good  counsels."     RoUin. 

In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States,  entitled,  "  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning, 
by  sectiring  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts  and  Books,  to  the 
Authors  and  Proprietors  of  such  Copies,  during  the  times 
therein  mentioned  ;"  and  also  to  an  Act  entitled,  *'  An  Act 
supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled,  An  Act  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts  and 
Books,  to  the  Authors  and  Proprietors  of  such  copies  during 
the  times  therein  mentioned  ;  and  extending  the  benefits 
thereof  td  the  Arts  of  Designing,  Engraving  and  Etching  His- 
torical, and  other  prints." 

ixr  o   c  ^  Clerk  of  the  District 

William  S.  Shaw,   ^     „j- Mismchusetts. 


Stereotyped  by  B.  k.  J.  Collins,  Tvew-York. 


PREFACE. 


NOTWITHSTAjYDIKG  the  multiplicity  of  School^ 
Books  now  in  use,  it  has  been  often  suggested,  that  a 
Selection,  calculated  particularly  for  Dialogue  and 
Declamation,  would  be  of  extensive  utility  in  our 
seminaries. 

The  art  of  Oratory  needs  no  encomium.  To  cultivate 
its  rudiments,  and  diffuse  its  spirit  among  the  Youth  of 
America,  is  the  design  of  this  Book. 

Of  tha  many  pieces  which  this  volume  contains, 
three  only  are  to  be  found  in  any  publication  of  the 
kind.     A  large  proportion    is    entirely    original.     To 

'Hhose,  who  have  assisted  him  in  this  part,  the  author  re- 

^turns  his  zcarmest  acknowledgments. 

The  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR  is  designed  for  a 
Second  Part  to  the  AMERICAN  PRECEPTOR :  fo^ 
this  reason,  no  pieces  are  inserted  from  that  book. 

As  no  advantage  could  arise  from  a  methodical  ar- 
rangement, the  Author  has  preferred  variety  to  sys- 
yern.  In  his  choice  of  materials,  it  has  been  his  object 
Jo  select  such  as  should  inspire  the  pupil  zoith  the  ardour 
^.of  eloquence,  and  the  love  of  virtue.  He  has  spared 
no  pains  to  render  the  Work,  in  every  respect,  worthy 
Jfthe  generous  patronage,  which  a  liberal  public  have 
'^estowed  on  his  former  publications 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

/~^  ENERAL  Instructions  for  Speaking  -         -  7 

^^  Oration  on  Eloquence  -         -  Perkins  30 

Speech  in  Congress,  1789  -  -  Washington  34 
Speech  of  a  Roman  General  -  -  P.  Emilius  36 
Exhortation  on  Temperance  in  Pleasure  -  Blair  38 
Judah's  Plea  for  Benjamin,  before  Joseph  -  Philo  41 
Plea  in  behalf  of  Thomas  Muir  -         -  Mum  43 

On  the  starry  Heavens         ...  Hervey  44 

Paper,  a  Poem  -         -         -         .  Franklin  46 

Speech  before  the  Roman  Senate  -  -  Cato  48 
Dialogue  between  Duellist,  Savage,  and  Mercury 

Littleton  50 
Speech  of  an  Indian  Chief  -         -         -         -  54 

On  the  Creation  of  the  World  ...  Blair  55 
Lines  spoken  by  a  little  Boy  -  -  -  Everett  57 
Speech  in  the  British  Parliament,  1766         -  Pitt  58 

Scene  from  the  Farce  of  Lethe  -  -  Garrick  61 
Eulogy  on  Dr.  Franklin         -         -  .  Fauchet  64 

Epilogue  to  Addison's  Cato  .         -         -         -  69 

Self-Conceit,  an  Address  by  a  small  Boy  -  -         70 

Dialogue  bet'.veen  Howard  and  Lester  -  -         72 

Christ's  Crucifixion         -         -         -  Cumberland  74 

The  Wonders  of  Nature  -  -  Hervey  77 

Dialogue  on  Physiognomy  -  -  -  79 

Oration  at  the  Festival  of  Gratitude  -  -  Carnot  82 
Address  to  the  President  of  the  United  States  -  Adet  85 
President's  Answer  -  -  Washington  87 

The  oppressive  Landlord,  a  Dialogue  -         -  88 

Speech  in  the  British  Parhament,  1770  -  Mansfield  94 
On  the  Day  of  Judgment  -  -  Davies  97 

Christ  triumphant  over  the  apostate  Angels  Milton  100 
Slaves  in  Barbary,  a  Drama  in  two  Acts  -  Everett  102 
Speech  in  the  British  Parliament,  1770  -  -  Pitt  119 
Plea  before  a  Roman  Court  -         -       Socrates   122 

Dialogue  on  Cowardice  and  Knavery  -  -  126 

Speech  in  the  British  ParUament  -  -  Sheridan  130 
Extract  from  an  Oration  against  Catiline  -  Cicero  131 
Description  of  the  first  American  Congress  Barlow  133 
Speech  of  a  French  General  to  his  Army  Buonaparte  135 
Reflections  over  the  Grave  of  a  young  Man  Hervey  136 
Scene  from  the  Drama  of  "  Moses  in  the  Bulrushes" 

A  2  [H.Mobe     137 


vi.  CONTENTS. 

Speech  of  a  Roman  General      -      -      - 
Speech  in  tlie  British  Parliament,  1784 
Address  to  the  People  of  the  U.  States 
Dialogue  on  the  Choice  of  Business  for 
Speech  of  a  French  General 
Speech  in  the  British  Parliament,  1777 


PAGE. 

C.Cassius   142 

Erskine 
Washington 
Life 

Buonaparte 
Pitt 


144 
147 
150 
154 
156 


Di  alogue  between  a  Schoolmaster  and  School-Committee  1 58 
Speech  in  the  British  Pariiament,  1770  -  -  Pitt  165 
On  the  general  Judgment  Day  -  Dwight 

On  the  Works  of  Creation  and  Providence  -  Hervey 
Speech  in  the  British  Parliament,  1770  -  -  Fox 
The  Conjurer,  a  Dialogue  -         -  Everett 

Speech  in  the  British  Parliament,  1775  -  Pitt 
Speech  of  the  Caledonian  General  -  Galgachus 
Modern  Education,  a  Dialogue  -  -         - 

On  the  Existence  of  God,  a  Sermon  -  -  Maxcy 
The  Dignity  of  Human  Nature  -  Burges 

Infernal  Conference  -  -  -  Cumberland 
Speech  in  the  British  Parhament,  1777  -  Pitt 
On  the  Day  of  Judgment         -         -         -  Young 

The  dissipated  Oxford  Student  Altered  from  Burney 
Speech  in  Congress,  on  the  British  Treaty  -  Ames 
Oration  on  Independence,  July  4,  1796  -  -  Blake 
General  Description  of  America,  a  Poem  Everett 

Dialogue  between  a  Master  and  Slave         -  Aikin 

Speech  in  the  Irish  Parliament  -  -  O'Connor 
Scene  from  the  Tragedy  of  Tamerlane  -  Rowe 
Speech  in  the  British  Parliamelit  -  -  Barre 
The  Last  Day  -  -  -  Everett 

Dialogue  on  Loquacity 
American  Sages  .  .  - 

Speech  in  the  British  Parliament,  1777 
Scene  from  the  Tragedy  of  Cato 
Oration  delivered  at  Boston,  July  4,  1794 
Dialogue  between  a  White  Man  and  an  Indian  Everett 
Oration,  pronounced  at  Boston,  July  4,  1796    Lathrop 
Dialogue  between  Edward  and  Harry 
David  and  Goliath 

Oration  on  the  Powers  of  Eloquence 
Dialogue  on  Civilization 
Oration  on  the  Manumission  of  Slaves 
A  Forensic  Dispute 


Barlow 

Pitt 

Addison 

Phillips 


Everett 
H.  More 


Miller 
Everett 


(^ration  delivercc!  at  Boston,  March  Sth,  1780    Mas-on 


THE 


COLUMBIAN  ORATOR,  &c. 


INTRODUCTION. 


General    Directions    for    Speaking  ; 
from  various  authors. 


EXTRACTED 


OF  PRONUNCIATION  IN  GENERAL. 

THE  best  judges  among  the  ancients  have  repre- 
sented Pronunciation,  which  they  likewise  called 
Action,  as  the  principal  part  of  an  orator's  province ; 
from  whence  he  is  chiefly  to  expect  success  in  the  art 
of  persuasion.  When  Cicero,  in  the  person  of  Crassus, 
has  largely  and  elegantly  discoursed  \ipon  all  the  other 
parts  of  oratory,  coming  at  last  to  speak  of  this,  he  says, 
"  All  the  former  have  their  effect  as  they  are  pronoun- 
ced. It  is  the  action  alone  which  governs  in  speaking ; 
without  which  the  best  orator  is  of  no  value ;  and  is 
often  defeated  by  one,  in  other  respects,  much  his  in- 
ferior." And  he  lets  us  know,  that  Demosthenes  was 
of  the  same  opinion ;  who,  when  he  was  asked  what 
was  the  principal  thing  in  oratory,  replied,  Action ; 
and  being  asked  again  a  second  and  a  third  time,  what 
was  Hext  considerable,  he  still  made  the  same  answer. 

AncJ, 


8  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

And,  indeed,  if  he  had  not  judged  this  highly  neces- 
sary for  an  orator,  he  would  scarcely  have  taken  so 
much  pains  in  correcting  those  natural  defects,  under 
which  he  laboured  at  first,  in  order  to  acquire  it.  For 
he  had  both  a  weak  voice,  and  likewise  an  impediment 
in  his  speech,  so  that  lie  could  not  pronounce  distinctly 
some  particular  letters.  The  former  of  which  defects 
he  conquered,  partly  by  speaking  as  loud  as  he  could 
upon  the  shorej  when  the  sea  roared  and  was  boister- 
ous ;  and  partly  by  pronouncing  long  periO'.is  ris  he 
walked  up  hill ;  both  of  which  methods  contributed 
to  strengthen  his  voice.  And  he  found  means  to  ren- 
der his  pronunciation  more  clear  and  articulate,  by  the 
help  of  some  little  stones  put  under  his  tongue.  Nor 
was  he  less  careful  in  endeavouring  to  gain  the  habit 
of  a  becoming  and  decent  gesture;  for  which  purpose 
he  used  to  pronounce  his  discourses  alone  before  a  large 
glass.  And  because  he  had  an  ill  custom  of  drawing 
up  his  shoulders  when  he  spoke,  to  amend  that,,  lie 
used  to  place  them  under  a  swoixl,  which  hung  over 
him  with  the  point  downv/ard. 

Such  pains  did  this  prince  of  the  Grecian  orators  take  " 
to  remove  those  diiliculties,  which  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  discourage  an  inferior,  and  less  aspiring 
genius.  And  to  how  great  a  perfection  he  arrived  in 
his  action,  under  all  these  disadvantages,  by  his  inde- 
fatigable diligence  and  application,  is  evident  from  the 
confession  of  his  great  adversary  and  rival  in  oratory, 
Eschines  ;  who,  when  he  could  not  bear  the  disgrace  of 
being  worsted  by  Demosthenes  in  the  cause  of  Ctesipii^n, 
retired  to  Rhodes.  And  being  desired  by  the  inhab- 
itants, he  recited  to  them  his  own  oration  upon  that 
occasion  ;  the  next  day  they  requested  of  him  to  let  them 
hear  that  of  Demosthenes  ;  which,  having  pronounced 
in  a  most  graceful  manner,  to  the  admiration  of  all  who 
were  present,  '*  How  much  more  (says  he)  would  you 
bav.e  v/ondered,  if  you  had  heard  him  speak  it  himself!" 

We  might  add  to  these  authorities  the  judgment  of 
Quintilian  j  who  says,  that  "  It  is  not  of  so  much  mo- 
ment 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  & 

inent  what  our  compositions  are,  as  how  they  are  pro- 
nounced ;  since  it  is  the  manner  of  the  delivery,  hy 
which  the  audience  is  moved." 

"  The  truth  of  this  sentiment  of  the  ancients,  concera- 
ing  the  power  and  efficacy  of  pronunciation,  might  be 
proved  from  many  instances  ;  but  one  or  two  may  here 
suffice.  Hortensius,  a  cotcmporary  with  Cicero,  and 
while  living,  next  to  hijn  in  reputation  as  an  orator, 
was  highly  applauded  for  his  action.  But  his  orations 
after  his  death,  as  Quintilian  tells  us,  did  not  appear 
answerable  to  his  character;  from  whence  he  justly 
concludes,  there  must  have  been  something  pleasing 
when  he  spoke,  by  which  he  gained.-feis  character, 
which  was  lost  in  reading  them. 

But  perhaps  there  is  scarcely  a  more  considerable  in- 
stance of  this  than  in  Cicero  himself.  After  the  death 
of  Pompey,  when  Cesar  had  gotten  the  government 
into  his  own  hands,  many  of  his  acquaintance  interce- 
ded with  him  in  behalf  of  their  relations  and  friends, 
who  had  been  of  the  contrary  party  in  the  late  wars. 
Among  others,  Cicero  solicited  for  his  friend  Ligarius ; 
which,  Tubero  understanding,  who  owed  Ligarius  a 
grudge,  opposed ;  and  undertook  to  represent  him  lo 
Cesar  as  unworthy  of  his  mercy.  Cesar  himself  was 
prejudiced  agahist  Ligarius ;  and  therefore,  when  the 
cause  was  come  before  him,  he  said,  "  We  may 
venture  to  hear  Cicero  display  his  eloquence ;  for  I 
know  the  person,  he  pleads  for  to  be  an  ill  man,  and' 
my  enemy." 

But,  however,  in  the  course  6f  his  oration,  Cicero  so 
wrought  upon  his  passions,  that  by  the  frequent  altera- 
tion in  his  countenance,  the  emotions  of  his  mind  were 
very  conspicuous.  And  when  he  came  to  touch  upon 
the  battle  of  Pharsalia,  which  had  given  Cesar  the  em- 
pire of  the  world,  he  represented  it  in  such  a  moving 
and  lively  manner,  that  Cesar  could  no  longer  contain 
him.self,  but  was  thrown  into  such  a  fit  of  shivering, 
that  he  dropped  the  papers  which  he  held  in  his  hand. 
This  was  the  more  remarkable,  because  Cesar  was  him- 
self 


10  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

self  one  of  the  greatest  orators  of  that  age  ;  knew  all 
the  arts  of  address,  and  avenues  to  the  passions ;  and  con- 
sequently was  better  prepared  to  guard  against  them. 

But  neither  his  skill,  nor  resolution  of  mind,  was  of 
sufficient  force  against  tiie  power  of  oratory  ;  but  the 
conqueror  of  the  world  became  a  conquest  to  the  charms 
of  Cicero's  eloquence  ;  so  that,  contrary  to  his  inten- 
tion, he  pardoned  Ligarius.  Now  that  oration  is  still 
extant,  and  appears  exceedingly  well  calculated  to 
touch  the  soft  and  tender  passions  and  springs  of  the 
soul ;  but  v»'c  believe  it  can  scarcely  be  discernible  to 
any,  in  reading  it,  how  it  should  have  had  so  surprising 
an  effect ;  which  must  therefore  have  been  chiefly  ow- 
ing to  the  wonderful  address  of  the  speaker. 

The  more  natural  the  pronunciation  is,  the  more 
moving  it  will  be  ;  since  the  perfection  of  art  consists 
in  its  nearest  resemblance  to  nature.  And  therefore 
it  is  not  without  good  reason,  that  the  ancients  make 
it  one  qualification  of  an  orator,  that  he  he  o.  good  man  ; 
because  a  person  of  this  character  will  make  the  cause 
he  espouses  his  own ;  and  the  more  sensibly  he  is 
touched  with  it  himself,  the  more  natural  will  be  his 
action ;  and,  of  course,  the  more  easily  will  he  affect 
others.  Cicero  says,  "  It  is  certain  that  truth  (by 
which  he  means  nature)  in  every  thing  excels,  imita- 
tion ;  but  if  that  \\ei:e  sufficient  of  itself  in  action,  we 
should  have  no  occasion  for  art." 

In  his  opinion  therefore  (and  who  was  ever  a  better 
judge  ?)  art,  in  this  case,  as  well  as  in  many  others,  if 
well  managed,  will  assist  and  improve  nature.  But  this 
is  not  all ;  for  sometimes  we  find  the  force  of  it  so  great 
and  powerful,  that,  where  it  is  wholly  counterfeit,  it 
will  for  the  time  work  the  same  effect  as  if  it  were 
founded  in  truth.  This  is  well  known  to  those  who 
have  been  conversant  with  the  representations  of  the 
theatre.  In  tragedies,  though  w^e  are  sensible  that 
every  thing  we  see  and  hear  is  counterfeit ;  yet  such  is 
the  power  of  action,  that  we  are  oftentimes  affected  by 
it  in  the  same  manner  as  if  it  were  all  reality. 

Anger 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  U 

Anger  and  resentment  at  the  appearance  of  cruelty,.' 
concern  and  solicitude  for  distressed  virtue,  rise  in  our  i 
breasts ;  and  tears  are  extorted  from  us  for  oppressed 
innocence :  though  at  the  same  time,  perhaps,  we  are 
ready  to  laugh  at  ourselves  for  being  thus  decoyed.  If 
art  then  has  so  great  an  influence  upon  us,  when  sup- 
ported by  fancy  and  imagination  only,  how  powerful 
must  be  the  effect  of  a  just  and  lively  representation  of 
what  we  know  to  be  true. 

How  agreeable  it  is,  both  to  nature  and  reason,  that  a 
warmth  of  expression  and  vehemency  of  motion  should 
rise  in  {proportion  to  the  importance  of  the  subject,  and 
concern  of  the  speaker,  will  further  appear  by  looking 
back  a  little  into  the  more  early  and  simple  ages  of  the 
world.  For  the  higher  we  go,  the  more  we  shall  find 
of  both.  The  Romans  had  a  very  great  talent  this 
way,  and  the  Greeks  a  greater.  The  eastern  nations 
excelled  in  it,  and  particularly  the  Hebrews. 

Nothing  can  equal  the  strength  and  vivacity  of  the 
figures  they  employed  in  their  discourse,  and  the  very 
actions  they  used,  to  express  their  sentiments  ;  such  as 
putting  ashes  on  their  heads,  tearing  their  garments, 
and  covering  themselves  with  sackcloth  under  any  deep 
distress  and  sorrow  of  mTu^.  And  hence,  no  doubt, 
arose  those  surprising  efiects  of  eloquence,  which  we 
never  experience  now. 

And  what  is  said  here,  with  respect  to  the  action  of 
the  eastern  nations,  was  in  a  good  measure  customary 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  4  if  not  entirely  of  the 
same  kind,  yet  perhaps  as  vehement  and  expressive. 

They  did  not  think  language  of  itself  sufficient  to  ex- 
press the  height  of  their  passions,  unless  enforced  by 
uncommon  motions  and  gestures.  Thus,  when  Achil- 
les had  driven  the  Trojans  into  their  city  with  the 
greatest  precipitation  and  terror,  and  only  Hector  ven- 
tured to  tarry  without  the  gates  to  engage  him.  Homer 
represents  both  king  Priam  and  his  queen  under  the 
highest  consternation  for  the  dangeY  of  their  son.  And 
therefore,  in  order  to  prevail  with  him  to  come  into  the 

city 


iS  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

city  and  not  fight  with  Achilles,  they  not  only  entreat 
him  from  the  walls  in  the  most  tender  and  moving  lan- 
guage imaginable ;  but  they  tear  off  their  grey  looks 
with  their  hands,  and  adjure  him  to  comply  with  their 
request. 

The  poet  knew  very  well,  that  no  words  of  them- 
selves could  represent  those  agonies  of  mind  he  endeav- 
oured to  convey,  unless  heightened  by  the  idea  of  such 
actions  as  were  expressive  of  the  deepest  sorrow,  in 
one  of  Cicero's  orations,  he  does  not  stick  to  argue  in  this 
manner  with  his  adversary.  "  Would  you  talk  thus 
(says  he)  if  you  were  serious  ?  Would  you,  who  are 
wont  to  display  your  eloquence  so  warmly  in  the  danger 
of  others,  act  so  coldly  in  your  own?  Where  is  that 
concern,  that  ardour  which  used  to  extort  pity  even 
from  children  ?  Here  is  no  emotion  either  of  mind  or 
body;  neither  the  forehead  struck,  nor  the  thigh; 
nor  so  much  as  a  stamp  of  the  foot.  Therefore,  you 
have  been  so  far  from  inflaming  our  minds,  that  you 
have  scarcely  kept  us  awake.'' 

The  ancients  had  persons,  whose  proper  business  it 
was  to  teach  them  how  to  regulate  and  manage  their 
voice  ;  and  others,  who  instructed  them  in  the  whole 
art  of  pronunciation,  both  ^^  to  their  voice  and  gestures. 
These  latter  were  generally  taken  from  the  theatre, 
being  some  eminent  experienced  actors.  But  though 
they  made  use  of  actors  to  instruct  their  youth  in  form- 
ing their  speech  and  gestures;  yet  the  action  ofao  or- 
ator was  very  different  from  that  6f  the  theatre. 

Cicero  very  plainly  represents  this  distinction,  in  the 
words  of  Crassus ;  when  speaking  of  orators,  he  says, 
"  The  motions  of  the  body  ought  to  be  suited  to  the 
expressions,  not  in  a  theatrical  way,  mimicking  the 
words  by  particular  gesticulations ;  but  in  a  manner 
expressive  of  the  general  sense ;  with  a  sedate  and  manly 
inflection  of  the  sides  ;  not  taken  from  the  stage  and 
actors,  but  from  the  exercise  of  arms  and  the  palestra." 
And  Quintilian  says  to  the  same  purpose,  "  Every 
gesture  and  motion  of  the  comedians  is  not  to  be  imi- 
tated, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  13 

taled,  nor  to  the  same  degree.  They  thought  the 
action  of  th©  theatre  too  light  and  extravagant  for  the 
imitation  of  an  orator ;  and  therefore,  though  they 
employed  actors  to  inform  young  persons  in  the  first 
rudiments,  yet  they  were  afterwards  sent  to  schools,  de- . 
signed  on  purpose  to  teach  them  a  decent  and  graceful 
management  of  their  bodies. 

Being  thus  far  prepared,  they  were  afterwards  sent 
to  the  schools  of  the  rhetoricians.  And  here,  as  their 
business  was  to  cultivate  their  style,  and  gain  the  whole 
art  of  eloquence,  so  particularly  to  acquire  a  just  and 
accurate  pronunciation  by  those  exercises,  in  which  for 
that  end  they  were  constantly  employed.  Nor,  after 
all  this  pains  and  industry,  did  they  yet  think  them- 
selves sufficiently  qualified  to  take  upon  them  the  char- 
acter of  orators.  But  it  was  their  constant  custom  to 
get  together  some  of  their  friends  and  acquaintance, 
who  were  proper  judges  of  such  performances,  and 
declaim  before  them  in  private. 
^  The  business  of  these  persons  was  to  make  observa- 
tions both  on  their  language  and  pronunciation.  And 
they  were  allowed  the  greatest  freedom  to  take  notice 
of  any  thing  thought  to  be  amiss,  either  as  to  inaccuracy 
of  method,  impropriety  of  stvle,  or  indecency  of  their 
voice  or  actions.  This  gav-'f  them  an  opportunity  to 
correct  any  such  defects  at  fct,  lefore  they  became 
habitual.  What  effects  might  not  justly  be  expected 
from  such  an  institution  ?  Persons  trained  up  in  this 
manner,  with  all  those  advartages,  joined  to  a  good 
natural  genius,  C9uld  not  fail  of  making  very  complete 
orators.  Though  even  after  they  came  to  appear  in 
public,  they  did  not  lay  aside  the  custom  of  declaiming. 

The  influence  of  sounds,  either  to  raise  or  allay  our 
passions,  is  evident  from  music.  And  certainly  the 
harmony  of  a  fine  discourse,  well  and  gracefully  pro- 
nounced, is  as  capable  of  moving  us,  if  not  in  a  way 
so  violent  and  ecstatic,  yet  not  less  powerful,  and  more 
agreeable  to  our  rational  faculties.  As  persons  are  dif- 
ferently affected  when  they  speak,  so  they  naturally 
B  aher 


14  THE  COLUMBlAiN  ORATOR. 

alter  the  tone  of  their  voice,  though  they  do  not  attend 
to  it.  It  rises,  sinks,  and  has  various  inflections  given 
it,  according  to  the  present  state  and  disposition  of  the 
mind.  When  the  mind  is  calm  and  sedate,  the  voice  is 
moderate  and  even  ;  when  the  former  is  dejected  with 
sorrow,  the  latter  is  languid  ;  and  when  that  is  inflamed 
by  passion,  this  is  elevated. 

It  is  the  orator's  business,  therefore,  to  follow  nature, 
and  to  endeavour  that  the  tone  of  his  voice  appear  natural 
and  unaffected.  An  J  for  this  end,  he  must  take  care  to 
suit  it  to  the  nature  of  the  subject ;  but  still  so  as  to  be 
always  grave  and  decent.  Some  persons  continue  a 
discourse  in  such  a  low  and  drawling  manner,  that  they 
can  scarcely  be  heard  by  their  audience.  Others  again 
hurry  on  in  so  loud  and  boisterous  a  manner,  as  if  they 
imagined  their  hearers  were  deaf.  But  all  the  music 
and  harmony  of  voice  lies  between  these  extremes. 

Perhaps  nothing  is  of  more  importance  to  a  speaker, 
than  a  proper  attention  to  accent,  emphasis,  and  ca- 
dence. Every  word  in  our  language,  of  more  than  one 
syllable,  has,  at  least,  one  accented  syllable.  This  sylla- 
ble ought  to  be  rightly  known,  and  the  word  should  be 
pronounced  by  the  speaker  in  the  same  manner  as  he 
would  pronounce  it  in  o^'dj^nary  conversation.  By  em- 
phasis, we  distinguish  those  words  in  a  sentence  which 
we  esteem  the  most  imp<'rtant,  by  laying  a  greater 
stress  of  voice  upon  then?  than  we  do  upon  the  others. 
And  it  is  surprising  to  observe  how  the  sense  of  a 
phrase  may  be  altered  b^  varying  the  emphasis.  The 
following  example  will  serve  as  an  illustration. 

This  short  question,  '*  Will  you  ride  to  town  to- 
day V'  may  be  understood  in  four  different  ways,  and, 
consequently,  may  receive  four  different  answ^ers,  ac- 
cording tQ,  the  placing  of  the  emphasis. 

If  it  be  pronounced  thus  ;  Will  you  ride  to  town 
to-day  ?  the  answer  may  properly  be.  No ;  I  shall  send 
my  son.  If  thus ;  Will  you  ride  to  town  to-day  ? 
Answer,   No;    T  intend  to  walk.     Will   you   ride  to 

toTsn 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  15 

town  to-day  ?  No  ;  I  shall  ride  into  the  counU-y.     Will 
you  ride  to  town  to-day?  No  ;  but  1  shall  to-morrow.     . 

This  shows  how  necessary  it  is  that  a  speaker  should 
know  how  to  place  his  emphasis.  And  the  only  rule 
for  this  is,  that  he  study  to  attain  a  just  conception  of 
the  force  and  spirit  of  the  sentiments  which  he  delivers. 
There  is  as  great  a  difference  between  one  who  lays 
his  emphasis  properly,  and  one  who  pays  no  regard  to 
it,  or  places  it  wrong,  as  there  is  between  one  who 
plays  on  an  instrument  with  a  masterly  hand,  and  the 
most  bungling  performer. 

Cadence  is  the  reverse  of  emphasis.  It  is  a  depres- 
sion or  lowering  of  the  voice  ;  and  commonly  falls  up- 
on the  last  syllable  in  a  sentence.  It  is  varied,  how- 
ever, according  to  the  sense.  When  a  question  is 
asked,  it  seldom  falls  upon  the  last  word ;  and  many 
sentences  require  no  cadence  at  all. 

Every  person  who  speaks  in  public,  should  endeavour, 
if  he  can,  to  fill  the  place  where  he  speaks.  But  still 
he  ought  to  be  careful  not  to  exceed  the  natui*a4  key 
of  his  voice.  If  he  does,  it  will  neither  be  soft  nor 
agreeable  ;  but  either  harsh  and  rough,  or  too  shrill  and 
squeaking.  Besides,  he  will  not  be  able  to  give  every 
syllable  its  full  and  distinct  sound  ;  which  vr'Il  render 
what  he  says  obscure,  and  difficult  to  be  understood. 
He  should  therefore  take  care  to  keep  his  voice  within 
reach,  -so  as  to  have  it  under  management,  that  he  may 
raise  or  sink  it,  or  give  it  any  inflection  he  thinks  prop- 
er ;  which  it  will  not  be  in  his  power  to  do,  if  he  put 
a  force  upon  it,  and  strain  it,  beyond  its  natural  tone.- 

The  like  caution  is  to  be  used  against  the  contrary 
extreme,  that  the  voice  be  not  suffered  to  sink  too  low. 
This  will  give  the  speaker  pain  in  raising  it  again  to  its 
proper  pilch,  and  be  no  less  offensive  to  the  hearers. 
The  medium  between  these  two  is  a  moderate  and  even 
voice.  But  this  is  not  the  same  in  all ; ,  that  which 
is  moderate  in  one  would  be  high  in  another.  Every 
erson  therefore  must  regulate  it  by  the  natural  key  of 
is  own  veice.     A  calm  and  sedate  voice  is  generally 

best ; 


I 


16  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

best ;  as  a  moderate  sound  is  most  pleasing  to  the  ear, 
if  it  be  clear  and  distinct.  But  this  equality  of  the 
voice  must  also  be  accompanied  with  a  variety  :  other- 
wise there  can  be  no  hannony ;  since  all  harmony  con- 
sists in  variety. 

Nothing  is  less  pleasing  than  a  discourse  pronounced 
thi'oughout  in  one  continued  tone  of  the  voice,  with- 
out any  alteration..  The  equality,  therefore,  we  are 
here  speaking  of,  admits  a  variety  of  inflections  and 
changes  within  the  same  pitch.  And  when  that  is 
altered,  the  gradations,  whedier  higher  or  lower,  should 
be  so  gentle  and  regular  as  to  preserve  a  due  pro- 
portion of  the  parts,  and  hannony  of  the  whole  ;  which 
carfnot  be  done,  when  the  voice  is  suddenly  varied  with 
;0  great  a  distinction.  And  therefore  it  should  move 
ironi  one  key  to  another,  so  as  rather  to  glide  like  a 
gentle  stream,  than  pour  down  like  a  rapid  torrent,  as 
an  ingenious  "writer  has  well  expressed  it. 

But  an  affected  variety,  ill  placed,  is  as  disagreeable 
to  a  judicious  audience,  as  the  want  of  it,  where  the 
subject  requires  it.  We  may  find  some  persons,  in  pro- 
nouncing a  grave  and  })lain  discourse,  affect  as  many 
different  tones,  and  variations  of  their  voice,  as  if  they 
were  acting  a  comedy  ;  which  is  doubtless  a  very  great 
impropriety.  But  the  orator's  province  is  not  barely 
to  apply  to  the  mind,  but  likewise  to  the  passions  ; 
which  require  a  great  variety  of  the  voice,  high  or 
low,  vehement  or  languid,  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  passions  he  designs  to  affect.  So  that  for  an  orator 
always  to  use  the  same  tone  or  degree  of  his  voice,  and 
expect  to  answer  all  his  views  by  it,  would  be  much  the 
same  thing  as  if  a  physician  should  propose  to  cure  all 
distempers  by  one  medicine.  And,  as  a  perfect  monoto- 
ny is  always  unpleasant,  so  it  can  never  be  necessary 
in  any  discourse. 

That  some  sentences  ought  to  be  pronounced  faster 
than  others  is  very  manifest.  Gay  and  sprighdy  ideas 
should  not  only  be  expressed  louder,  but  also  quicker 
than  such  as  are  melancholy.     A«ad  when  we  press  an 

oponent, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  17 

opponent,  the  voice  should  be  brisk.  But  to  hurry  or 
in  a  precipitate  manner  without  pausing,  till  stopped  foi 
want  of  breath,  is  certainly  a  very  great  fault.  This 
destroys  not  only  the  necessary  distinction  between  sen- 
tence and  sentence,  but  likewise  between  the  several 
words  of,  the  same  sentence ;  by  which  mean,  all  the 
grace  of  speaking  is  lost,  and  in  a  great  measure,  the 
advantage  of  hearing. 

Young  persons  are  very  liable  to  this,  especially  at 
first  setting  out.  And  it  often  arises  from  diffidence. 
They  are  jealous  of  their  performances,  and  the  suc- 
cess they  may  have  in  speaking,  which  gives  them  a 
pain-till  it  is  over;  and  this  puts  them  into  a  hurry  of 
mind,  which  incapacitates  them  from  governing  their 
voice,  and  keeping  it  under  that  due  regulation  which 
perhaps  they  proposed  to  themselves  before  they  began 
to  speak. 

And  as  a  precipitant  and  hasty  pronunciation  is  cul- 
pable, so  likewise  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  fault  to 
speak  too  slow\  This  seems  to  argue  a  heaviness  in 
the  speaker.  And  as  he  appears  cool  himself,  he  can 
never  expect  to  warm  his  hearers,  and  excite  their  af- 
fections. vYhen  not  only  every  wofd,  but  every  sylla- 
ble is  draw^n  out  to  too  great  a  length,  the  ideas  do 
not  come  fast  enough  to  keep  up  the  attention  without 
much  uneasiness.  Now,  to  avoid  either  of  the  two 
extremes  last  mentioned,  the  voice  ought  to  be  sedate 
and  distinct.  And  in  order  to  render  it  distinct,  it  is 
necessary,  not  only  that  each  word  and  syllable  should 
have  its  just  and  full  sound,  both  as  to  time  and  accent, 
but  likewise  that  every  sentence,  and  part  of  a  sentence, 
should  be  separated  by  its  proper  pause. 

This  is  more  easy  to  be  done  in  reading,  from  the 
assistance  of  the  points ;  but  it  is  no  less  to  be  attended 
to  in  speaking,  if  w^e  would  pronounce  in  a  distinct 
and  graceful  manner.  For  every  one  should  speak  in 
the  same  manner  as  he  ought  to  read,  if  he  could  ar- 
rive at  that  exactness.  Now  the  common  rule  given  in 
pausing  is,  that  we  stop  our  voice  at  a  comma  till  we 
B  2  can 


18  THE  COLUAiBlAN  ORATOR. 

can  tell  one,  at  a  semicolon  two,  at  a  colon  three,  aiid 
at  a  full  period  four.  And  as  these  points  are  either 
accommodated  to  the  several  parts  of  the  same  sen- 
tence, as  the  first  three;  or  different  sentences,  as  the 
last ;  this  occasions  the  different  length  of  the  pause, 
by  which  either  the  dependence  of  what  precedes  upon 
that  which  follows,  or  its  distinction  from  it  is  repre- 
sented. 

It  is  not  in  our  power  to  give  ourselves  w^hat  qual- 
ities of  the  voice  we  please ;  but  only  to  make  the 
best  use  we  can  of  what  nature  has  bestowed  upon  us. 
However,  several  defects  of  the  voice  are  capable  of 
being  helped  by  care  and  proper  means ;  as,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  best  voice  may  be  greatly  hurt  by  ill 
management  and  indiscretion.  Temperance  is  a  great 
preservative  of  the  voice,  and  all  excess  is  highly  prej- 
udicial to  it.  The  voice  must  necessarily  suffer,  if  the 
organs  of  speech  have  not  their  proper  tone.  A  strong 
voice  is  very  serviceable  to  an  orator,  because,  if  he 
want  some  other  advantages,  he  is,  however,  capable  to 
make  himself  heard.  Ajid  if  at  any  time  he  is  forced 
to  strain  it,  he  is  in  less  danger  of  its  failing  him  before 
he  has  finished  his  discourse. 

But  he,  who  has  a  weak  voice,  should  be  very  care- 
ful not  to  strain  it,  especially  at  first.  He  ought  to  be- 
gin slow,  and  rise  gradually  to  such  a  pitch  as  the  key 
of  his  voice  will  well  carry  him,  without  being  obliged 
to  sink  again  afterwards.  Frequent  inflections  of 
the  voice  will  likewise  be  some  assistance  to  him.  But 
especially  he  should  take  care  to  speak  deliberately, 
and  ease  his  vaice,  by  allowing  due  time  for  respira- 
tion at  all  the  proper  pauses.  It  is  an  extreme  much 
less  inconvenient  for  such  a  person  rather  to  speak  too 
slow,  than  too  fast.  But  this  defeet  of  a  weak  voice  is 
Sometimes  capable  of  being  helped  by  the  use  of  pro- 
per methods  ;  as  is  evident  from  tlie  instance  of  De- 
mosthenes, before  mentioned. 

Some  persons,  cither  from  want  of  dwe  care  in  their 
■education  at  first,  or  from  inadvertency  and  negligence 

afterwards. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  10 

afterwards,  mn  into  a  very  irrcgukir  and  confused  man- 
ner of  expressing  their  words;  either  by  misplacing  the 
accent,  confounding  the  sound  of  the  letters,  or  hud- 
dling the  syllables  one  upon  another,  so  as  to  render 
what  they  say  often  unintelligible.  Indeed,  sometimes 
this  arises  from  a  natural  defect,  as  in  the  case  of  De- 
mosthenes ;  who  found  a  method  to  rectify  that,  as  well 
as  the  weakness  of  his  voice.  But  in  faults  of  this 
kind,  which  proceed  from  habit,  doubtless  the  mo3t 
likely  way  to  mead  them  is  tj  speak  deliberately. 


OF  GESTURE. 

By"  this  is  meant,  a  suitable  conformity  of  the  mo- 
tions of  the  countenance,  and  several  parts  of  the  body 
in  speaking,  to  the  subject  matter  of  the  discourse.  It 
is  not  agreed  among  the  learned,  whether  voice  or  ges- 
ture has  the  greater  influence  upon  us.  But  as  the 
latter  affects  us  by  the  eye  as  the  former  does  by  the 
ear,  gesture  in  the  nature  of  it  seems  to  have  this  ad- 
vantage, that  it  conveys  the  impression  more  speedily 
to  the  mind  ;  for  the  sight  is  the  quickest  of  all  our 
senses.  Nor  is  its  influence  less  upon  our  passions  ; 
nay,  in  some  instances,  it  appears  to  act  more  power- 
fully. A  cast  of  the  eye  will  express  desine  in  as 
moving  a  manner  as  the  softest  language  ;  and  adiffer- 
ent  motion  of  it,  resentment. 

To  wring  the  hands,  tear  the  hair,  or  strike  the 
breast,  are  all  strong  indications  of  sorrow..  And  he, 
who  claps  his  hand  to  his  sword,  throws  us  into  a 
greater  panic  than  one  who  only  threatens  to  kill  us. 
Nor  is  it  in  some  respects  less  various  and  extensive 
language.  Cicero  tells  us,  he  often  diverted  him|^if 
by  trying  this  with  Roscius  the  comedian ;  who  could 
express  a  sentence  as  many  ways  by  his  gestures,  as  he 
himself  covild  by  words.  And  some  dramas,  called  pan- 
tomimes, have  been  carried  on  wholly  by  mutes,  who 

have 


20  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

have  performed  every  part  by  gestures  only,  without 
words,  in  a  way  very  intelligible. 

But  with  respect  to  oratory,  gesture  may  very  prop- 
erly be  called  the  second  part  of  pronunciation ;  in 
which,  as  the  voice  should  be  suited  to  the  impressions 
it  receives  from  the  mind,  so  the  several  motions  of  the 
body  ought  to  be  accommodated  to  the  various  tanes 
and  inflections  of  the  voice.  When  the  voice  is  even 
and  moderate,  little  gesture  is  required  ;  and  nothing 
is  more  unnatural  than  violent  motion,  in  discoursing 
upon  ordinary  and  familiar  subjects.  The  motions  of 
the  body  should  rise  therefore  in  proportion  to  the  ve- 
hemence and  energy  of  the  expression,  as  the  natural 
and  genuine  effect  of  it. 

But  as  gesture  is  very  different  and  various  as  to  the 
manner  of  it,  which  depends  upon  the  decent  conduct 
of  several  parts  of  the  body,  it  v/ill  not  be  amiss  to  con- 
sider more  particularly  the  proper  management  of  each 
of  those  parts.  Now  all  gesture  is  either  natural,  or 
from  imitation.  By  natural  gesture,  we  mean  such 
actions  and  motions  of  the  body,  as  naturally  accom- 
pany our  words,  as  these  do  the  impressions  of  our 
mind.  And  these  either  respect  the  whole  body,  or 
some  particular  part  of  it; 

The  speaker  should  not  long  continue  standing  in 
the  same  position,  like  a  statue,  but  be  constantly 
changing,  though  the  motion  be  very  moderate.  There 
ought  to  be  no  appeai^ance  of  stiffness,  but  a  certain 
case  and  pliableness,  naturally  suiting  itself  to  every 
expression ;  by  which  means,  when  a  greater  degree 
€>f  motion  is  necessary,  it  will  appear  less  sudden  and 
vehement :  for  as  the  raising,  sinking,  and  various  in- 
flections of  the  voice  must  be  gradual,  so  likewise 
should  the  aiotions  of  the  body.  It  is  only  on  some 
particular  occasions  that  a  hasty  vehemence  and  impe- 
tuosity is  proper  in  either  case. 

As  to  the  several  parts  of  the  body ,  the  head  is  the  most 
considerable.  To  lift  it  up  too  high  has  the  air  of  aiTO- 
gance  and  pride ;  to  stretch  it  out  too  far,  or  throw  it 

kack. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2i 

back, looks  clownish  and  unmannerly;  to  hang  it  down- 
wards on  the  breast,  shows  an  unmanly  bashfulness  and 
want  of  spirit :  and  to  suffer  it  to  loan  on  either  shoul- 
der argues  both  sloth  and  indolence.  Wherefore,  in 
calm  and  sedate  discourse,  it  ought  to  keep  its  natural 
state,  and  upright  posture.  However,  it  should  not  be 
long  without  motion,  nor  yet  always  movmg;  but 
^enllv  turn  sometimes  on  one  side,  and  sometimes  on 
The  other,  as  occasion  requires,  that  the  voice  may  be 
heard  by  all  who  are  present;  and  then  return  again 
to  its  natural  position.  It  should  always  accompany 
the  othe^'  actions  of  the  body,  and  turn  on  the  same 
side  with  them ;  except  when  aversion  to  any  thing  is 
expressed  ;  which  is  done  by  stretching  out  the  right- 
hand,  and  turning  the  head  to  the  left. 

But  it  is  the  countenance,  that  chiefly  insprescnts  both 
the  passions  and  dispositions  "of  the  mind.     By  this  we 
express  love,  hatred,  joy,  sorrow,  modesty,  and  con- 
fidence :  by  this  we  supplicate,  threaten,  soothe,  invite, 
forbid,  consent,  or  refuse  ;  and  all  this  without  speaking. 
Nay,  from  hence  we  form  a  judgment  not  only  of  a  per- 
son's present  temper,  but  of  his  capacity  and  natural 
disposition.     And  therefore  it  is  common  to  say,  such 
a  one  has  a   "  promising  countenance,"^  or  that  "  he 
promises  little  by  his  countenance."     It  is  true,  this  is 
no  certain  rule  of  judging  ;   nor  is  it  in  the  power  of 
any  one  to  alter  the  natural  make  of  his  countenance. . 
But  the  several  parts  of  the  face  bear  their  part,  and 
contribute   to  the  proper   and   decent  motion  of  the 
whole.    In  a  calm  and  sedate  discourse,  all  the  features 
retain    their  natural   state    and  situation.     In  sorrow 
the  forehead  and  eyebrows  lour,  and  the  checks  hang 
down.     But  in  expressions   of  joy  and  cheerfulness, 
the  foreheed  and  eyebrows  are  expanded,  the  checks 
contracted,   and   the  corners  of  the  mouth  drawn  up- 
wards.    Anger  and  resentment  contract  the  forehead, 
draw  the  brows  together,  and  thrust  out  the  lips.   And 
terror  elevates  both  the  brows  and  forehead.   As  these 

are. 


22  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

are  the  natural  signs  of  such  passions,  the  orator  should 
endeavour  to  conform  to  thenr.- 

But  as  the  eyes  are  most  active  and  significant,  it  is    . 
the  advice  of  Cicer®  that  the  greatest  care  should  be 
taken  in  their  management.    And  he  gives  this  reason 
for  it.     "  Because  other  parts  of  the  countenance  have 
but  few  motions  ;  whereas  all  the  passions  of  the  soul 
are  expressed  in  the  eyes,  by  &o  many  different  actions; . 
which  cannot  possibly  be  represented  by  any  gestures 
of  the  body,  if  the  eyes  are  kept  in  a  fixed  posture." 
Common  experience  does  in  a  great  measure  confirm   • 
the  truth  of.  this  observation.     We  readily  guess  at  a 
person's  intention,  or  how  he  is  aifected  to  us  by  his 
eyes.    And  any  sudden  change  or  emotion  of  the  mind 
is  presently  followed  by  an  alteration  in  the  look. 

In  speaking,  therefore,  upon  pleasant  and  delightful 
subjects,  the  eyes  are  brisk  and  cheerful;  as,  on  the 
contrary,  they  sink  and  are  languid  in  delivering  any- 
thing melancholy  and  sorrowful.  This  is  so  agreeable 
to  nature,  that  before  a  person  speaks,  we  are  prepared 
with  the  expectation  of  one  or  the  other  from  his  dif- 
ferent aspect.  So  likewise  in  anger,  a  certain  vehe- 
mence and  intenseness  appears  in  the  eyes,  which,  for 
want  of  proper  words  to  express  it  by,  we  endeavour^ 
to  represent  by  metaphors  taken  from  fire,  the  most " 
violent  and  rapid  element ;  and  say  in  such  cases,  the 
eyes  sparkle,  burn,  or  are  inflamed.  In  expressions 
of  hatred  or  detestation,  it  is  natural  to  alter  the  looks, 
either  by  turning  the  eyes  aside,  or  downwards. 

Indeed,  the  eyes  are  sometimes  turned  downwards 
upon  other  occasions,  as  to  express  modesty.  And  if  at 
any  time  a  particulai-  object  be  addressed,  whatever  it  . 
be,  the  eyes  should  be  turned  that  way.  And  there- 
fore Pl.iilostratus  very  deservedly  ridicules  a  certain 
rhetorician  as  guilty  of  solecism  in  gesture,  who,  upon 
saving,  O  Jupiter !  turned  his  eyes  downwards  ;  and 
when  he  said,  O  Earth  !  looked  upward.  A  staring 
look  lias  the  appearance  of  giddiness  and  want  of 
thought :  and  to  contract  the  eyes  gives  suspicion  of 

craf* 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  23 

craft  and  design.  A  fixed  look  may  be  occasioned 
from  intenseness  of  thought ;  but  at  the  same  time  shows 
a  disre^gard  to  the  audience  ;  and  a  too  quick  and  wan- 
dering motion  of  the  eyes  denotes  levity  and  wanton- 
ness. A  gentle  and  moderate  motion  of  the  eyes  is, 
therefore,  in  common,  most  suitable  ;  always  directed 
to  some  of  the  audience,  and  gradually  turning  from 
side  to  side  with  an  air  of  respect  and  modesty,  and 
looking  them  decently  in  the  face,  as  in  common  dis- 
course. Such  a  behaviour  will  of  course  draw  at- 
tention. 

As  to  the  other  parts  of  the  body  distinct  from  the 
head,  the  shoulders  ought  not  to  be  elevated;  for  this 
is  not  only  in  itself  indecent ;  but  it  likewise  contracts 
the  neck,  and  hinders  the  proper  motion  of  the  head. 
Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  should  they  be  drawn  down 
and  depressed ;  because  this  occasions  a  stiiihess  both 
to  the  neck  and  the  whole  body.  Their  natural  pos- 
ture therefore  is  best,  as  being  most  easy  and  grace- 
ful. To  shrug  the  shoulders  has  an  abject  and  servile 
air  ;  and  fi-equently  to  heave  them  upwards  and  down- 
wards is  a  very  disagr(jeable  sight.  A  continued  mo- 
tion of  the  arms  any  way,  is  by  all  means  to  be  avoid- 
ed. Their  action  should  generally  be  very  moderate, 
and  follow  that  of  the  hands ;  unless  in  very  pathetic 
expressions,  where  it  may  be  proper  to  give  them  .a 
more  lively  spring. 

Now,  all  bodily  motion  is  either  upward  or  down- 
ward, to  the  right  or  left,  forward  or  backward,  or 
else  circular.  I'he  hands  are  employed  by  the  orator 
in  all  these  except  the  last.  And  as  they  ought  to  cor- 
respond with  our  expressions,  so  they  ought  to  begin 
and  end  with  them.  In  admiration,  and  addresses  to 
Heaven,  they  must  be  elevated,  but  never  raised  above 
the  eyes;  and  in  speaking  of  things  below  us,  they  are 
directed  downwaras.  Side  motion  should  generally  be- 
gin from  the  left,  aiid  terminate  gently  on  the  right. 
In  demonstrating,  addressing,  and  on  several  other  oc- 
casions, they  are  moved  forward  ;  and  in  threatening., 

sometimes 


24  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

sometimes  thrown  back.  But  when  the  orator  sp«alcs 
©f  himself,  his  right  hand  should  be  gently  laid  on 
his  breast. 

The  left  hand  should  seldom  move  alone,  but  ac- 
commodate itself  to  the  motions  of  the  right.  In  mo- 
tions to  the  left  side,  the  right  hand  should  not  be  car- 
ried beyond  the  left  shoulder.  In  promises,  and  ex- 
pressions of  compliment,  the  motion  of  the  hands 
should  be  gentle  and  slow;  but  in  exhortations  and 
applause,  more  swift.  The  hands  should  generally 
be  open  ;  but  in  expressions  of  compunction  and  an- 
ger, they  may  be  closed.  All  finical  and  trilling  ac- 
tions of  the  fingers  ought  to  be  avoided ;  nor  should 
they  be  stretched  out  and  expanded  in  a  stiff  and  rigid 
posture,  but  kept  easy  and  pliable. 

The  gestures  we  have  hitherto  discoursed  of,  are 
such  as  naturally  accompany  our  expressions.  And 
we  believe  those  we  have  mentioned,  if  duly  attended 
to,  will  be  found  sufficient  to  answer  all  the  purposes 
of  our  modern  pronunciation.  The  other  sort  of 
gestures  above  mentioned  are  such  as  arise  from  imita- 
tion ;  as  where  the  orator  describes  some  action,  or 
personates  another  speaking.  But  here  great  care  is 
to  be  taken  not  to  overact  his  part  by  running  into 
any  ludicrous  or  theatrical  mimicry.  It  is  sufficient 
for  him  to  represent  things  of  this  nature,  as  may 
best  convey  the  image  of  them  in  a  lively  manner  to 
the  minds  of  the  hearers  ;  without  any  such  changes 
either  of  his  actions  or  voice  as  are  not  suitable  to  nis 
own  character. 


Some   PARTICULAR    RULES    tor  the   VOICE 
AND  GESTURE. 

WE  shall  begin  with  the  parts  of  a  discourse,  and 
treat  of  them  in  their  natural  order.  And  here  the 
view  and  design  of  the  speaker  in  eaoh  of  them  will 
easily  help  us  to  see  the  proper  manner  of  pronuncia- 

atiofl. 


THE  COLUMEJAN  ORATOR.  25 

aiioj.  Let  us  suppose  then  a  person  presenting  him- 
selt'  before  an  assembly,  in  order  to  make  a  discourse 
to  tliem.  It  cannot  be  decent  immediately  to  begin  to 
speak  so  soon  as  ever  he  makes  his  appearance.  He 
will  first  settle  himself,  com.pose  his  countenance,  and 
take  a  respectful  view  of  his  audience.  This  prepares 
them  for  silence  and  attention. 

Persons  commonly  form  some  opinion  of  a  speaker 
from  their  first  view  of  him,  which  prejudices  them 
either  in  his  favour  or  otherwise,  as  to  what  he  says 
afterwards.  A  grave  and  sedate  aspect  inclines  them 
to  think  him  serious  ;  that  he  had  considered  his  sub- 
ject, and  may  kave  something  to  offer  worth  their  at- 
tention. A  haughty  and  forbidding  air  occasions  dis- 
taste, as  it  looks  lik€  disrespect.  A  wandering,  giddy 
countenance  argues  levity.  A  dejected  drooping  ap- 
pearance is  apt  to  raise  contempt,  unless  where  the 
subject  is  melancholy.  And  a  cheerful  aspect  is  a  pro- 
per  prelude  to  a  pleasant  and  agreeable  argument. 

To  speak  low  at  first  has  the  appearance  of  modesty, 
and  is  best  for  the  voice ;  which,  by  rising  gradually, 
will  with  more  ease  be  carried  to  any  pitch  that  may 
be  afterwards  necessary,  without  straining  it.  How- 
ever, some  variation  of  the  voice  is  always  proper  to 
give  it  harmony.  Nay,  and  sometimes  it  is  not  im- 
proper for  an  orator  to  set  out  with  a  considerable 
deforce  of  warmth.  We  have  some  few  instances  of 
this  in  Cicero ;  as  in  his  oration  for  Roscius  Amerinus> 
where  the  heinousness  of  the  charge  could  not  but  ex- 
cite his  indignation  against  the  accusers.  And  so  like- 
wise, in  that  against  Piso^  and  the  two  first  against  Ca- 
tiline, which  begin  in  the  same  manner,  from  the  resent- 
ment he  had  conceived  against  their  persons  and  conduct. 

In  the  narration,  the  voice  ought  to  be  raised  to  some- 
what a  higher  pitch.  Matters  of  fact  should  be  related 
in  a  very  plain  and  distinct  manner,  with  a  proper  stress 
and  emphasis  laid  upon  each  circumstance,  accompanied 
with  a  suitable  address  and  motions  of  the  body  to  en- 
gage the  attention  of  the  hearers.    For  there  is  a  certain 

C  grace 


26  TFTE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

grace  in  telling  a  story,  by  which  those  who  are  masters 
of  it  seldom  fail  to  recommend  themselves  in  conver- 
sation. 

The  proposition,  or  subject  of  the  discourse  should 
be  delivered  with  a  very  clear  and  audible  voice.  For 
if  this  be  not  plainly  heard,  all  that  follows  in  proof  of 
it  cannot  be  well'understood.  And  for  the  same  reason, 
if  it  be  divided  into  several  parts  or  branches,  they 
should  each  be  expressed  very  deliberately  and  dis- 
tinctly. But  as  the  design  here  is  only  information, 
there  can  be  little  room  for  gesture. 

The  confirmation  admits  of  great  variety  both  of  the 
voice  and  gesture.  In  reasoning,  the  voice  is  quick 
and  pungent,  and  should  be  enforced  with  suitable  ac- 
tions. And  as  descriptions  likewise  have  often  a  place 
here,  in  painting  out  the  images  of  things,  the  orator 
should  so  endeavour  to  adapt  both  his  voice,  and  the 
motions  of  his  body,  particularly  the  turn  of  his  eyes, 
and  action  of  his  hands,  as  may  best  help  the  imagina- 
tion of  his  hearers.  Where  he  introduces  another  per- 
son speaking,  or  addresses  an  absent  person,  it  should 
be  with  some  degree  of  imitation.  And  in  dialogue, 
the  voice  should  alter  with  the  parts.  When  he  di- 
verts from  his  subject  by  any  digression,  his  voice 
should  be  lively  and  cheerful  5  since  that  is  rather  de- 
signed for  entertainment  than  instruction. 

In  confutation,  the  arguments  of  the  adverse  party 
ought  first  to  be  repeated  in  a  plain  and  distinct  man- 
ner, that  the  speaker  may  not  seem  to  conceal,  or  avoid 
the  force  of  them.  Unless  they  appear  trifling  and  un- 
worthy of  a  serious  answer ;  and  then  a  facetious  man- 
ner, both  of  expression  and  gesture,  may  be  the  most 
proper  way  to  confute  them.  For,  to  attempt  to  an- 
swer, in  a  grave  and  serious  manner,  what  is  in  itself 
empty  and  ludicrous,  is  apt  to  create  a  suspicion  of  its 
having  more  in  it  than  it  really  has. 

But  caution  should  be  used  not  to  represent  any  ar- 
gument of  weight  in  a  ludicrous  way,  lest  by  so  doing 
♦be  speaker  shouki  more  expose  himself  than  his  adver- 
sary. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  27 

saiy.  In  the  conclusion,  both  the  voice  and  gesture 
shouhl  he  brisk  and  sprightly ;  which  may  seem  to 
arise  from  a  sense  of  the  speaker's  opinion  of  the  good- 
ness of  his  cause,  and  that  he  has  offered  nothing  but 
what  is  agreeable  to  reason  and  truth  ;  as  likewise  from 
his  assurance  that  the  audience  agree  with  him  in  the 
same  sentiment.  If  an  enumeration  of  the  principal 
arguments  of  the  discourse  be  convenient,  as  it  some- 
times is,  where  they  are  pretty  numerous,  or  the  dis- 
course is  long,  they  ought  to  be  expressed  in  the  most 
clear  and  forcible  manner.  And  if  there  be  an  address 
to  the  passions,  both  the  voice  and  gesture  must  be 
suited  to  the  nature  of  them. 

We  proceed  now  to  the  consideration  of  particular 
expressions.  And  what  we  shall  offer  here,  w-iil  be  in 
relation  to  the  single  words,  sentences,  and  the  pas- 
sions. Even  in  those  sentences  which  are  expressed 
in  the  most  even  and  sedate  manner,  there  is  often  one 
or  more  words  which  require  an  emphasis  and  distinc- 
tion of  the  voice.  Pronouns  are  often  of  this  kind :  as^ 
this  is  the  man.  And  such  are  many  words  that  de- 
note the  circumstances  and  qualities  of  things.  Such 
as  heighten  or  magnify  the  idea  of  the  thing  to  w^hich 
they  are  joined,  elevate  the  voice  ;  as,  noble,  admira- 
ble, majestic,  greatly,  and  the  like.  On  the  contrary, 
those  which  lessen  the  idea,  or  debase  it,  depress  the 
voice,  or  at  least  protract  the  tone  :  of  which  sort  are 
the  words,  little,  mean,  poorly,  contemptible,  with  many 
others. 

Some  tropes,  likewise,  asT^aphors  and  verbal  fig- 
ures, which  censist  in  the  repSition  of  a  single  word, 
^ould  have  a  particular  emphasis.  As  when  Virgil 
says  of  the  river  Araxes,  '*  It  disdained  a  bridge."  And 
Nisus  of  himself,  in  the  same  poet,  "  I,  /am  the  man ;" 
where  the  repeated  word  is  loudest.  This  distinction 
of  words,  and  giving  them  their  proper  emphasis,  does 
not  only  render  the  expression  more  clear  and  intel- 
ligible, but  very  much  contributes  to  the  variation  of 
the  voice  and  the  preventing  of  a  monotony. 

In 


28  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

In  sentences,  regard  should  be  had  to  their  lengtli, 
and  the  number  of  their  parts,  in  order  to  distinguish 
thera  by  proper  pauses.  The  frame  and  structure  of 
the  period  ought  likewise  to  be  considered,  that  the 
voice  may  be  so  managed  as  to  give  it  the  most  music- 
al accent.  Unless  there  be  some  special  reason  for 
the  contrarj',  it  should  end  louder  than  it  begins.  And 
this  diifercnce  of  tone  between  the  end  of  the  former 
sentence  and  the  beginning  of  the  next,  not  only  hclp^ 
to  distinguish  the  sense,  but  adds  to  the  harmony  of 
tlie  voice. 

In  an  antithesis,  or  a  sentenc-e  consisting  of  opposite 
parts,  one  contrary  must  be  louder  than  the  other. 
As,  "  He  is  gone,  but  by  a  gainful  remove,  from^^m- 
ful  labour  to  qitict  rest  ;  from  unquiet  desire  to  happy 
eonientment ;  from  sorrow  to  joy  ;  and  from  transitory 
time  to  immQHality,'^'^  In  a,  climax  or  gradation,  the 
voice  should  generally  rise  with  it.  Thus,  *'  There  is 
no  enjoyment  of  property  without  government ;  no  gov- 
ernment without  a  magistrate ;  no  magistrate  without 
obedience  ;  no  obedience  where  every  one  acts  as  he 
pleases."  And  so  in  other  gradations  of  a  different 
form  ;  as,  ''  Since  concord  was  lost,  friendship  was 
lost,  fidelity  was  lost,  liberty/  was  lost,  all  was  lost." 

That  the  passions  have  each  of  them  both  a  differ- 
ent voice  and  action,  is  evident  from  hence,  that  we 
know  in  what  manner  a  person  is  affected,  by  the  tone 
of  his  voice,  though  we  do  not  understand  the  sense  of 
what  he  says,  or  many  times  so  much  as  see  him ;  and 
we  can  often  make  the  same  judgment  from  his  coun- 
tenance and  gestm-es.  Love  and  esteem  are  expressed 
in  a  smooth  and  cheerful  tone ;  but  anger  and  resent- 
ment, with  a  rough,  harsh,  and  interrupted  voice  r 
for  when  the  spirits  are  ruffled,  the  organs  are  moved 
unequally.  Joy  raises  and  dilates  the  voice,  as  sor- 
row sinks  and  contracts  it.  Cicero  takes  notice  of  a 
passage  in  an  oration  of  Gracchus,  wherein  he  bewails 
the  death  of  his  brother,  who  was  killed  by  Scipio, 
which  in  his  time  was  thought  very  moving  :  "  Unhap- 
py 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  29 

py  man  (says  he,)  whither  shall  I  betake  myself?' 
Where  shall  I  go  ?  Into  the  capitol  ?  that  flows  with 
my  brother's  blood.  Shall  I  go  home,  and  behold  my 
mihappy  mother  all  in  tears  and  despair?" 

Though  Gracchus  had  a  very  ill  design  in  that 
speech,  and  his  view  was  to  excite  the  populace  against 
their  governors,  yet  (as  Cicero  tells  us)  when  he  came 
to  this  passage,  he  expressed  himself  in  such  moving 
accents  and  gestures,  that  he  extorted  tears  even  from 
his  enemies.  Fear  occasions  a  tremor  and  hesitation 
o£  the  voice,  and  assurance  gives  it  strength  and  firm- 
ness. Admiration  elevates  the  voice,  and  should  be  ex- 
pressed with  pomp  and  magnificence.  "  O  surprising 
clemency,  worthy  of  the  highest  praise  and  greatest  en- 
comiums,and  fit  to  be  perpetuated  in  lasting  monuments!'* 
This  is  Cicero's  compliment  to  Cesar,  when  he  thought 
it  for  his  purpose.  And  oftentimes  this  passion  is  ac- 
companied with  an  elevation  both  of  the  eyes  and  hands. 
On  the  contrary,  contempt  sinks  and  protracts  the  voice. 

All  exclamations  should  be  violent.  When  we  ad- 
dress inanimate  things,  the  voice  should  be  higher  than 
when  animated  beings  ;  and  appeals  to  Heaven  must 
be  made  in  a  loftier  tone  than  those  to  men.  These 
few  hints  for  expressing  the  principal  passions  may,  if 
duly  attended  to,  suffice  to  direct  our  practice  in  others. 
Though,  after  all,  it  is  impossible  to  gain  a  just  and 
decent  pronunciation  of  voice  and  gesture  merely  from 
rules,  without  practice  and  an  imitation  of  the  best 
examples :  which  shows  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients, 
in  training  up  their  youth  to  it,  by  the  assistance  of 
masters,  to  form  both  their  speech  and  actions.  But 
here,  as  has  been  before  observed,  great  caution  should 
be  used  in  directing  our  choice  of  an  example.  An 
affected  imitation  of  others,  in  pronunciation  or  gesture, 
especially  of  stage-players,  whose  pretensions  to  litera- 
ture are  seldom  considerable,  and  who  are  generally 
too  fond  of  singularity,  ought  to  be  carefully  avoided. 
For  nothing  can  appear  more  disgusting  to  persons  of 
discernment  than  affectation* 

C  %  PRACTICAL 


PRACTICAL  PIECES  for  SPEAKING ; 

CONSISTING    OF 

OPtATIONS,  ADDRESSES,  EXHORTATIONS 
TROM  THE  PULPIT,  PLEADINGS  at  the 
BAR,  SUBLIME  DESCRIPTIONS,  DEBATES, 
DECLAMATIONS,  GRAVE  and  HUMOR- 
OUS DIALOGUES,    POETRY,  ^c.   variouslv 

IjSTERSPERSED. 


Extract  from  an  Oration  on  Eloquence, 
pronounced  at  harvard  university,  on  com- 
MENCEMENT Day,  1784. 


THE  excellence,  utility,  and  importance  of  Elo- 
quence ;  its  origin,  progress,  and  present  state; 
and  its  superior  claim  to  the  particular  attention  of 
Columbia's  free  born  sons,  will  exercise  for  a.  few  mo- 
ments the  patience  of  this  learned,  polite,  and  respected 
assembly. 

Speech  and  reason  are  the  characteristics,  the  glory, 
and  the  happiness  of  man.  These  are  the  pillars  which 
support  the  fair  fabric  of  eloquence ;  the  foundation, 
upon  which  is  erected  the  most  magnificent  edifice,  that 
genius  could  design,  or  art  construct.  To  cultivate  elo- 
quence, then,  is. to  improve  the  noblest  faculties  of  our 
natnre,  the  richest  talents  with  which  we  are  entrusted. 
A  more  convincing  proof  of  the  dignity  and  importance 
of  our  subject  need  not,  cannot  be  advanced. 

The  benevolent  design  and  the  beneficial  effects  of 
eloquence,  evince  its  great  superiority  over  every  other 
■Avt,  which  ever  exercised  the  ingenuity  of  man.  To 
instruct,  to  persuade,  to  please;  these  are  ite  objects. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  3i 

To  scatter  the  clouds  of  ignorance  and  eiTor  from  the 
atmosphere  of  reason  ;  to  remove  the  film  of  prejudice 
from  the  mental  eye  ;  and  thus  to  irradiate  the  be- 
nighted mind  with  the  cheering  beams  of  truth,  is  at 
once  the  business  and  the  glory  of  eloquence. 

To  promote  the  innocent  and  rehned  pleasures  of  the 
fancy  and  intellect ;  to  strip  the  monster  vice  of  all  his 
borrowed  charms,  and  expose  to  view  his  native  defor- 
mity ;  to  display  the  resisdess  attractions  of  virtue ; 
and,  in  one  word,  to  rouse  to  action  all  the  latent  ener- 
gies of  man,  in  the  proper  and  ardent  pursuit  of  the 
great  end  of  his  existence,  is  the  orator's  pleasing,  be- 
nevolent, sublime  employment. 

Nor  let  it  be  objected,  that  eloquence  sometimes  im- 
pedes the  course  of  justice,  and  screens  the  guilty  fi'om- 
the  punishment  due  to  their  crimes.  Is  there  any 
thing  which  is  not  obnoxious  to  abuse?  Even  the 
benign  religion  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  has  been  made 
the  unwilling  instmment  of  the  greatest  calamities  ever 
experienced  by  man.  The  greater  the  benefits  which 
naturally  result  from  any  thing,  the  more  pernicious  arc 
its  effects,  when  diverted  fi'om  its  proper  course.  This 
objection  to  eloquence  is  therefore  its  highest  eulogium. 

The  orator  does  not  succeed,  as  some  would  insin- 
uate, by  dazzling  the  eye  of  reason  with  the  illusive 
glare  of  his  rhetorical  art,  nor.  by  silencing  her  still 
small  voice  in  the  thunder  of  his  declamr..iion  :  for  to 
her  impartial  tribunal  he  refers  the  truth  and  propriety 
of  whatever  he  asserts  or  proposes.  After  fairly  con- 
vincing the  understanding,  he  may,  without  the  impu- 
tation of  disingenuousness,  proceed  to  address  tiie  fancy 
and  the  passions..  In  this  way  he  will  more  elTectually 
transfuse  into  his  hearers  his  own  sentiments,  and  make 
every  spring  in  the  human  machine  co-operate  in  the 
production  of  the  desired  effect. 

The  astonishing  powers  of  eloquence  are  well  knovsrn, 
at  least  to  those  who  are  conversant  in  ancient  history. 
Like  a  resistless  torrent,  it  bears  down  every  obstacle, 
and  turns  even  the  current  of  opposing  ignorance  and 

prejudice? 


^2         THE  Columbian  orator. 

prejudice  into  the  desired  channel  of  active  and  zealous 
compliance.  It  is  indisputably  the  most  potent  art  with- 
in the  compass  of  human  acquirement.  An  Alexander 
and  a  Cesar  could  conquer  a  world ;  but  to  overcome 
the  passions,  to  subdue  the  wills,  and  to  command  at 
pleasure  the  inclinations  of  men,  can  be  effected  only 
by  the  all-powerful  charm  of  enrapturing  eloquence. 

Though  it  be  more  than  probable,  that  oratory  was 
known  and  cultivated  in  some  degree  in  ihose  eastern 
nations,  where  science  first  began  to  dawn  upon  the 
world ;  yet  it  was  not  till  Greece  became  civilized  and 
formed  into  distinct  governments,  that  it  made  its  appear- 
ance in  its  native,  peerless  majesty.  Here  we  may  fix  the 
era  of  eloquence  ;  here  was  its  morn  ;  here  its  meridian 
too;  for  here  it  shone  with  splendor  never  since  surpassed. 

It  is  a  common  and  a  just  remark,  that  eloquence 
can  flourish  only  in  the  soil  of  liberty.  Athens  was  a 
republic,  where  the  affairs  of  state  were  transacted  in 
the  assembly  of  the  whole  people.  This  afforded  to 
eloquence  a  field  too  fertile  to  remain  long  uncultiva- 
ted by  the  ingenious  Athenians.  Orators  soon  made 
their  appearance,  who  did  honor  to  language,  to 
Greece,  to  humanity. 

But  though  the  names  of  many  have  been  trans- 
mitted to  us,  whose  genius  and  eloquence  demand  our 
veiteration  and  applause ;  yet,  like  stars  when  the  sun 
appears,  they  are  lost  in  the  superior  blaze  of  the  in- 
comparable Demosthenes.  His  story  is  well  known ; 
and  his  example  affords  the  greatest  encouragement  to 
students  in  eloquence  ;  as  it  proves,  that,  by  art,  almost 
in  defiance  of  nature,  a  man  may  attain  such  excellence 
in  oratory,  as  shall  stamp  his  name  with  the  seal  of  im- 
mortality. Demosthenes  and  the  liberty  of  Greece  to- 
gether expired ;  and  from  this  period  we  hear  very 
little  more  of  Grecian  eloquence. 

Let  us  now  direct  our  attention  to  that  other  gar- 
den of  eloquence,  the  Roman  commonwealth.  Here, 
as  in  Greece,  a  free  government  opened  the  list  to  such 
as  v/ished  to  dispute  the  palm  in  oratory.     Numbers 

advance. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  33 

advance,  and  contend  manfully  for  the  prize.  Btit 
their  glor}'  is  soon  to  fade  ;  for  Cicero  appears  ;  Cicero, 
another  name  for  eloquence  itself.  Jt  is  needless  to 
enlarge  on  his  character  a«  an  orator.  SutBce  it  to 
say,  that  if  we  ransack  the  histories  of  the  world  to 
find  a  rival  for  Demosthenes,  Cicero  alone  can  be 
found  capable  of  suppoiHing  a  claim  to  that  distin- 
guished honor. 

And  when  did  Greece  or  Rome  present  a  fairei\ 
field  for  eloquence  than  that  which  now  invites  the 
culture  of  the  enlightened  citizens  of  Columbia  ?  We 
live  in  a  republic,  the  orator's  natal  soil ;  we  enjoy  as 
much  liberty,  as  is  consistent  widi  the  nature  of  man  ; 
we  possess  as  a  nation  ail  the  advantages  which  climate, 
soil,  ai^d  situation  can  bestow  ;  and  nothi-ng  but  real 
merit  is  here  required  as  a  qualification  for  the  most 
dignified  offices  of  state.  Never  had  eloquence  more 
ample  scope. 

And  shall  we  rest  satisfied  with  only  admiring,  or 
*at  most  with  following  at  an  awful  distance,  the  most 
illustrious  orators  of  Greece  and  Rome  ?  Shall  every 
•ther  useful  and  ornamental  art  speed  swifdy  towards 
perfection,  while  oratory,  that  most  sublime  of  all  arts  ; 
that  art,  which  could  render  one  man  more  dreadful 
to  a  tyrant,  than  hostile  fleets  and  armies,  is  almost 
forgotten?  It  must  not,  cannot  be.  That  refinement 
of  taste,  that  laudable  ambition  to  excel  in  every  thing 
which  does  honor  to  humanity,  which  distinguishes 
the  Americans,  and  their  free  and  popular  government, 
are  so  many  springs,  which,  though  not  instantaneous 
in  their  operation,  cannot  foil  in  time  to  raise  Co- 
lumbian eloquence  "  above  all  Greek,  above  all 
Roman  fame." 

With  pleasure  we  descry  the  dawning  of  that 
bright  day  of  eloquence,  which  we  have  anticipated. 
The  grand  council  of  our  nation  has  already  evinced, 
that  in  this  respect,  as  in  all  others,  our  republic  ac- 
knowledges no  existing  supeH<n'.  And  we  tnist,  that, 
as  our  sacred  teachers  make  it  their  constant  endeavour 

to 


L 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


to  imitate  the  great  learning,  the  exemplary  virtue, 
the  exalted  piety,  and  the  extensive  usefulness  of  the 
great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  they  will  not  fail  to  re- 
semble him  in  that  commanding,  that  heavenly  elo- 
quence, which  made  aa  avaricious,  an  unbelieving  Fe- 
lix, tremble. 

May  Columbia  always  afford  more  than  one  De- 
mosthenes, to  support  the  sacred  cause  of  freedom, 
and  to  thunder  terror  in  the  ears  of  every  transat- 
lantic Philip.  May  more  than  Ciceronean  eloquence 
be  ever  ready  to  plead  for  injured  innocence,  and 
suifering  virtue.  Warned  by  the  fate  of  her  prede- 
cessors, may  she  escape  those  quicksands  of  vice,  which 
have  ever  proved  the  bane  of  empires.  May  her  glory 
and  her  felicity  increase  with  each  revolving  year, 
till  the  last  trump  shall  announce  the  catastrophe  of 
nature,  and  time  shall  immerge  in  the  ocean  of  eternity. 


Extract    from    President     Washington's     first 
Speech  in  Congress,  1789. 

Fellow-Citizens  of  the  Senate, 

AND  OF  the  House  of  Representatives, 

AMONG  the  vicissitudes  incident  to  life,  no  event 
could  have  filled  me  with  greater  anxieties  thaa 
that  of  which  the  notification  was  transmitted  by  your 
order,  and  received  on  the  14th  day  of  the  present 
month.  On  the  one  hand,  I  was  summoned  by  my 
country,  whose  voice  I  can  never  hear  but  with  vene- 
ration and  love,  from  a  retreat  which  I  had  chosen 
with  the  fondest  predilection,  and,  in  my  flattering 
hopes,  with  an  immutable  decision,  as  the  asylum  of 
my  declining  years.  A  retreat  which  was  rendered 
every  day  more  necessary  as  well  as  more  dear  to  me, 
by  the  addition  of  habit  to  inclination,  and  of  frequent 
interruptions  in  my  health  to  the  gradual  waste  com- 
mitted on  it  by  time* 

On 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  35 

On  the  other  hand,  the  magnitude  and  diflicuhy  of 
the  trust,  to  which  the  voice  of  my  country  called  me, 
being  sufficient  to  awaken  in  the  wisest  and  most  expe- 
rienced of  her  citizens,  a  distrustful  scrutiny  into  his 
qualifications,  could  not  but  overwhelm  with  despon- 
dence one,  who,  inheriting  inferior  endowments  from 
nature,  and  unpractised  in  the  duties  of  civil  adminis- 
tration, ought  to  be  peculiarly  conscious  of  his  own 
deficiencies. 

In  this  conflict  of  emotions,  all  I  dare  aver  is,  that  it 
has  been  my  faithful  study  to  collect  my  duty  from  a 
just  appreciation  of  every  circumstance  by  which  it 
might  be  affected.  All  I  dare  hope  is,  that  if,  in  exe- 
cuting this  task,  I  have  been  too  much  swayed  by  a 
grateful  remembrance  of  former  instances,  or  by  an  af- 
fectionate sensibility  to  this  transcendent  proof  of  the 
confidence  of  my  fellow-citizens,  and  have  thence  too 
little  consulted  my  incapacity  as  well  as  disinclination 
for  the  weighty  and  untried  cares  before  me,  my  error 
w^ill  be  palliated  by  the  motives  which  misled  me  ;  and 
its  consequences  be  judged  by  my  couniry,  with  some 
share  of  the  partiality  in  which  they  orif^inated. 

Such  being  the  impressions  under  which  I  have,  in 
obedience  to  the  public  summon.'^^,  repaired  to  the  pres- 
ent station,  it  would  be  peculiarly  improper  to  omit  in 
this  first  official  act,  my  fervent  supplications  to  that 
Almighty  Being,  who  rules  over  the  universe,  who 
presides  in  the  councils  of  nations,  and  whose  provi- 
dential aids  can  supply  evciy  human  defect,  that  his 
benediction  may  consecrate  to  the  liberties  and  happi- 
ness of  the  people  of  the  United  States,  a  government 
instituted  by  themselves  for  these  essential  purposes ; 
and  may  enable  every  instrument  employed  in  its  ad- 
ministration, to  execute  with  success,  the  functions  al- 
lotted to  his  charge.  In  tendering  this  homage  to  the 
great  Author  of  every  public  and  private  good,  1  as- 
sure myself  that  it  expresses  your  sentiments  not  less 
than  my  own  ;  nor  those  of  my  fellow-citizens  at  large, 
less  than  either.* 

No 


36  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

No  people  can  "be  bound  to  ackiiowlcd2;e  and  adore 
the  invisible  hand,  which  conducts  the  aitairs  of  men, 
more  than  the  people  of  the  United  States.  Every 
step,  by  which  they  have  advanced  to  the  character  of. 
an  independent  nation,  seems  to  have  been  distinguish- 
ed by  some  token  of  providential  agency.  And  in  the 
important  revolution  just  accomplished  in  the  system 
ef  their  united  government,  the  tranquil  deliberations 
and  voluntary  consent  of  so  many  distinct  communities, 
from  which  the  event  has  resulted,  cannot  be  com- 
pared with  the  means  by  which  most  governments 
have  been  established,  without  some  return  of  pious 
gratitude,  with  a  humble  anticipation  of  the  future 
blessings  which  the  past  seem  to  presage.  These  re- 
flections, arising  out  of  the  present  crisis,  have  forced 
themselves  too  strongly  on  my  mind  to  be  suppressed. 
You  will  join  with  me,  I  trust,  in  thinking  that  there 
are  none,*  under  the  influence  of  which,  the  proceed- 
ings of  a  new  and  free  government  can  more  auspi- 
ciously commence. 


Speech  of  Paulus  Emilius  to  the  Roman  People, 
as  he  was  about  taking  the  command  ot 
THEIR  Army. 


YOU  seem  to  me,  Romans,  to  have  expressed  more 
joy  when  Macedonia  fell  to  my  lot,  than  when 
I  was  elected  consul,  or  entered  upon  that  office. 
And  to  me  your  joy  seemed  to  be  occasioned  by  the 
hopes  you  conceived,  that  I  should  put  an  end,  worthy 
of  the  grandeur  and  reputation  of  the  Roman  peo- 
ple, to  a  jr^ar,  which,  in  your  opinion,  has  already 
been  of  too  long  continuance.  I  have  reason  to  beheve, 
that  the  same  gods,  who  have  occasioned  Macedonia 
to  fall  to  my  lot,  w^ill  also  assist  me  with  their  protec- 
'tion  in  conducting  and  terminating  this  war  success- 
Y^lly.     But  of  this,  1  may  venture  to  assure  you,  that 

I  shall 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  37 

1  shall  do  my  utmost  not  to  fall  short  of  your  expecta- 
tions. 

The  senate  has  wisely  regulated  every  thing  neces- 
sary in  the  expedition  1  am  charged  with ;  and,  as  I 
am'^ordered  to  set  out  immediately,  I  shall  make  no 
delay  ;  and  I  know  that  my  colleague  Caius  Licinius, 
out  of  his  great  zeal  for  the  public  service,  will  raise 
and  march  otf  the  troops  appointed  for  me,  with  as 
much  ardor  and  expedition,  as  if  they  were  for  him- 
self. I  shall  take  care  to  trai.smit  to  you,  as  well  as 
to  the  senate,  an  exact  account  of  all  that  passes;  and 
you  may  rely  upon  the  certainty  and  truth  of  my  let- 
ters. But  I  beg  of  you,  as  a  great  favour,  that  you  will 
not  give  credit  to,  or  lay  any  weight,  out  of  credulity, 
upon  the  light  reports,  which  are  frequently  spread 
abroad  without  any  author. 

I  perceive  well,  that  in  this  war,  more  than  in  any 
other,  whatever  resolution  people  may  form  to  obviate 
these  rumours,  they  will  not  fail  to  make  impression, 
and  inspire  I  know^  not  what  discouragement.  There 
are  those,  who  in  company,  and  even  at  table,  com- 
mand armies,  make  dispositions,  and  prescribe  all  the 
operations  of  the  campaign.  They  know  better  than 
we,  where  we  should  encamp,  and  what  posts  it  is  ne- 
cessary for  us  to  sieze  ;  at  what  time,  and  by  what  de- 
file we  ought  to  enter  Macedonia ;  where  it  is  proper 
to  have  magazines  ;  from  whence,  either  by  sea  or 
land,  we  are  to  bring  provisions ;  when  we  are  tQ 
fight  the  enemy,  and  when  lie  still. 

They  not  only  prescribe  what  is  best  to  do ;  but 
for  deviating  ever  so  little  from  their  plans,  they  make 
it  a  crime  in  their  consul,  and  cite  him  before  their 
tribunal.  But  know,  Romans,  this  is  of  very  bad  ef- 
fect with  your  generals.  All  have  not  the  resolution 
and  constancy  of  Fabius,  to  despise  impertinent  reports. 
He  could  choose  rather  to  suffer  the  people,  upon  such 
unhappy  rumours,  to  invade  his  authority,  than  to  ruin 
affairs  in  order  to  preserve  their  opinion,  and  an  empty 
name. 

D  I  am 


38  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

I  am  far  from  believing,  that  generals  stand  in  no 
need  of  advice  :  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  who- 
ever would  conduct  every  thing  alone,  upon  his  own 
opinion,  and  without  counsel,  shows  more  presumption 
than  prudence.  But  some  may  ask,  How  then  shall 
we  act  reasonably?  I  answer,  ;by  not  sufiering  any 
persons  to  obtrude  their  advice  upon  your  generals, 
but  such  as  are,  in  the  first  place,  versed  in  the  art  of 
war,  and  have  learned  from  experience  what  it  is  to 
command  ;  and  in  the  second  place,  who  are  upon  the 
spot ;  who  know  the  enemy ;  are  witnesses  in  person 
to  all  that  passes  ;  and  sharers  with  us  in  all  dangers. 

If  there  be  any  one,  who  conceives  himself  capable 
of  assisting  me  with  his  counsels  in  the  war  you  have 
charged  me  with,  let  him  not  refuse  to  do  the  republic 
that  service ;  but  let  him  go  with  me  into  Macedo- 
nia. Ships,  horses,  tents,  provisions.,  shall  all  be  pro- 
vided for  him  at  my  charge.  But  if  he  will  not  take 
so  much  trouble,  and  prefers  the  tranquillity  of  the 
city  to  the  dangers  and  fatigues  of  the  field,  let  him 
not  take  upon  him  to  hold  the  helm,  and  continue  idle 
in  the  port.  The  city  of  itself  supplies  sufficient  mat- 
ter of  discourse  on  other  subjects  ;  but  as  for  these,  let 
it  be  silent  upon  them  ;  and  know,  that  we  shall  pay  no 
regard  to  any  counsels,  but  such  as  shall  be  given  us  in 
the  camp  itself. 


Exhortation  on  Temperance  in 
Pleasure. 


LET  me  particularly  exhort  youth  to  temperance 
in  pleasure.  Let  me  admonish  them,  to  beware 
of  that  rock  on  which  thousands,  from  race  to  race, 
continue  to  split.  The  love  of  pleasure,  natural  to 
man  in  every  period  of  his  life,  glows  at  this  age 
v/ith  excGosive  ardor.  Novelty  adds  fresh  charms,  as 
yet,  to   every    gratification.     The  v.orld  appears  to 

spread 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  39 

spread  a  continual  feast ;  and  health,  vigor,  and  high 
spirits,  invite  them  to  partake  of  it  without  restraint. 
In  vain  we  warn  them  oi"  latent  dangers.  Religion  is 
accused  of  insufferable  severity,  in  prohibiting  enjoy- 
ment :  and  the  old,  when  they  offer  their  admonitions, 
are  upbraided  with  having  forgotten  that  they  once 
were  young. 

And  yet,  my  friends,  to  what  do  the  restraints  of 
religion,  and  the  counsels  of  age,  with  respect  to 
pleasure,  amount  ?  They  may  all  be  comprised  in  few 
words,  not  to  hurt  yourselves,  and  not  to  hurt  others, 
by  your  pursuit  of  pleasure.  Within  these  bounds, 
pleasure  is  lawful ;  beyond  them,  it  becomes  criminaK 
because  it  is  ruinous.  Are  these  restraints  any  other, 
than  what  a  wise  man  would  choose  to  impose  on 
himself?  We  call  you  not  to  renounce  pleasure,  but 
to  enjoy  it  in  safety.  Instead  of  abridging  it,  we  ex- 
hort you  to  pili'sue  it  on  an  extensive  plan.  We  pro- 
pose measures  for  securing  its  possession,  and  for  pro- 
longing its  duration. 

Consult  your  whole  nature.  Consider  yourselves 
not  only  as  sensitive,  but  as  rational  beings  ;  not  only 
as  rational,  but  social ;  not  only  as  social,  but  imn\ortal. 
Whatever  violates  your  nature,  in  any  of  these  re- 
spects, cannot  afford  true  pleasure;  anymore  than 
.that  which  undermines  an  essential  part  of  the  vital 
system  can  promote  health.  For  the  truth  of  this  con- 
clusion, we  appeal,  not  merely  to  th-  authority  of  re- 
ligion, nor  to  the  testimony  of  the  aged,  but  to  your- 
selves and  your  own  experience.  We  ask,  whether 
you  have  not  found,  that  in  a  course  of  criminal  excess, 
your  pleasure  was  more  than  compensated  by  succeed- 
ing pain  ?  AYhether,  if  not  from  every  particular  in- 
stance, yet  from  every  habit,  at  least,  of  unlawi'id 
gratification,  there  did  not  spring  some  thorn  to  wound 
you ;  there  did  not  arise  some  consequence  to  make 
you  repent  of  it  in  the  issue  ? 

"  How  long  then,  ye  simple  ones!  will  ye  love  sim- 
plicity ?"     How  long  repeat  the  same  round  of  perni- 
cious 


40  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

cious  folly,  and  tamely  expose  yourselves  to  be  caught 
in  the  same  snare  ?  if  you  have  any  consideration,  cr 
any  firmness  left,,  avoid  temptations,  for  which  you 
have  found  yourselves  unequal,  with  as  much  care  as 
you  would  shun  pestilential  infection.  Break  off  all 
connexions  with  the  loose  and  profligate.  "  When 
sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not.  Look  not  on 
the  wine  when  it  is  red,  when  it  giveth  its  colour  in  the 
cup  ;  for  at  the  last,  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  sting- 
eth  like  an  adder.  Remove  thy  vv-ay  from  the  strange 
vvoman,  and  come  not  near  the  door  of  her  house. 
Let  not  thine  heart  decline  to  her  ways  ;  for  her  house 
is  the  way  to  helL  Thou  goest  after  her  as  a  bird  has- 
i^?rieth  to  the   snare,  and  knoweth  not  that  it  is  for 

By  these  unhappy  excesses  of  irregular  pleasure  in 
youth,  how  many  amiable  dispositions  are  corrupted 
or  destroyed  !  How  many  rising  capacities  and  powers 
are  suppressed !  How  many  flattering  hopes  of  parents 
and  friends  are  totally  extinguished !  Who  but  must 
drop  a  tear  over  human  nature,  when  he  beholds  that 
morning  which  arose  so  bright,  overcast  with  such 
untii?iely  darkness  ;  that  good  humour  which  once  capti- 
vated all  hearts  ;  that  vivacity  which  sparkled  in  every 
company ;  those  abilities  which  were  fitted  for  adorn- 
ing the  highest  station,  all  sacrificed  at  the  shrine  of 
low  sensuality;  and  one,  who  was  formed  for  running 
the  fair  career  of  life  in  the  midst  of  public  esteem,  cut 
off  by  his  vices  at  the  beginning  of  his  course,  or  sunk, 
for  the  whole  of  it,  into  insignificancy  and  contempt ! 
These,  O  sinful  pleasure  !  are  thy  trophies.  It  is  thus, 
that,  co-operating  with  the  foe  of  God  and  man,  thou 
degradest  human  nature,  and  blastest  the  opening  pros- 
]>ects  of  human  felicity. 

Judah's 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  41 


Judah's  Plea  for  his  Brother  Benjamin,  before 
Joseph  in  Egypt. 

WHEN  we  appeared  before  you,  Sir,  the  first 
time,  we  answered  without  reserve,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  strictest  truth,  all  the  questions  which 
you  were  pleased  to  put  to  us  concerning  our  family. 
We  acquainted  you,  that  we  had  a  father,  heavily  la- 
den with  years,  but  still  more  heavily  with  misfortunes  ; 
a  father,  whose  whole  life  had  been  one  continued  strug- 
gle with  adversity.  We  added  that  we  had  a  brother  pe- 
culiarly dear  to  him,  as  the  children  born  towards  the 
end  of  their  life  generally  are  to  old  men,  and  who  is 
the  only  one  remaining  of  his  mother  ;  his  brother  hav- 
ing con\e  in  early  youth  to  a  most  tragical  end. 

You  commanded  us,  as  the  proof  of  our  veracity  and 
innocence,  to  bring  that  brother  unto  you  \  and  your 
command  w^s  delivered  with  such  threatenings,  that 
the  terror  of  them  accompanied  us  all  the  way  back  to 
our  country,  and  imbittered  the  remainder  of  our  jour- 
ney. We  reported  ^very  thing  minutely  to  our  father, 
as  you  directed  us.  Resolutely  and  long,  he  refused 
to  intrust  us  with  the  care  of  that  child.  Love  suggested 
a  thousand  causes  of  apprehension  upon  his  account. 
He  loaded  us  with  the  bitterest  reproaches  for  having 
declared  that  we  had  another  brother. 

Subdued  by  the  famine,  he  at  length  reluctantly  con- 
sented ;  and  putting  his  beloved  son,  this  unhappy 
youth,  into  our  hands,  conjured  us  by  every  dear, 
every  avv'ful  name,  to  guard  with  tenderness  his  pre- 
cious life ;  and  as  we  would  not  see  him  expire  before 
our  eyes  in  anguish  and  despair,  to  bring  him  back  in 
safety.  He  parted  with  him  as  with  a  limb  torn  from 
his  own  body ;  and  in  an  agony  of  grief  inexpressible, 
deplored  the  dreadful  necessity  which  separated  him 
from  a  son,  on  whom  all  the  happiness  of  bis  life  de- 
pended. 

How 
D2 


42  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 

How  then  can  we  appear  before  a  father  of  sue 
delicate  sensibility  ?  With  what  eyes  shall  we  dan 
to  look  upon  him,  unless  we  carry  back  with  us  this 
son  of  his  right  hand,  this  staff  of  his  old  age,  whom 
alas  !  you  have  condemned  to  slavery  ?  I'he  good  ok 
man  will  expire  in  horrors  dreadful  to  nature,  as  soor 
as  he  shall  find  that  his  son  is  not  with  us.  Our  enC' 
mies  will  insult  over  us  under  these  misfortunes,  an( 
treat  us  as  the  most  infamous  of  parricides. 

I  must  appear  to  the  world,  and  to  myself,  as  th 
perpetrator  of  that  most  horrid  of  crimes,  the  murder 
of  a  father  ;  for  it  was  I  who  most  urgently  pressed  my 
father  to  yield,  I  engaged  by  the  most  solem.n  pro-1 
mises,  and  the  most  sacred  pledges,  to  bring  the  child 
back.  Me  he  intrusted  with  the  sacred  deposit,  and 
of  my  hand  he  will  require  it.  Have  pity,  I  beseech 
you,  on  the  deplorable  condition  of  an  old  man,  strip- 
ped of  his  last  comfort ;  and  whose  misery  will  be  ag- 
gravated by  reflecting  that  he  foresaw  its  approach, 
and  yet  wanted  resolution  to  prevent  it. 

If  your  just  indignation  must  needs  have  a  sacrifice, 
here  1  am  ready,  at  the  price  of  my  liberty  or  of  my 
life,  to  expiate  this  young  man's  guilt,  and  to  purchase 
his  release !  Grant  this  request,  not  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  the  youth  himxself,  as  of  his  absent  father,  who 
never  offended  you,  but  who  venerates  your  person 
and  esteems  your  virtues. 

Suffer  us  not  to  plead  in  vain  for  a  shelter  under  your 
right  hand,  to  which  we  flee,  as  to  an  holy  altar,  con- 
secrated as  a  refuge  to  the  miserable.  Pity  an  old  man, 
v/ho,  during  the  whole  course  of  a  long  life,  has  culti- 
vated arts  becoming  a  man  of  wisdom  and  probity,  ami 
who,  on  account  of  his  amiable  qualities,  is  almos' 
adored  by  the  inhabitants  of  Syria  and  Canaan,  though 
he  j>fofesscs  a  religion,  and  follows  a  mode  of  living 

totally  different  from  theirs. 

Extract 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATORc 


Extract    from    the  Plea  of  Thomas  Muir,  Esq, 

AT  HIS  CELEBRATED  TrIAL  IN  SCOTLAND. 

Gentlemen  of  the  Jurv, 

THIS  is  now  perhaps  the  last  time  that  I  shall  ad- 
dress my  country.  I  have  explored  the  tenor  of 
my  past  life.  Nothing  shall  tear  from  me  thf  record 
of  my  departed  days.  The  enemies  of  reform  have 
scrutinized,  in  a  manner  hitherto  unexampled  in  Scot- 
land, every  action  I  may  have  performed,  every  word 
I  may  have  uttered.  Of  crimes,  most  foul  and  horri- 
ble, have  I  been  accused  :  of  attempting  to  rear  the 
standard  of  civil  war;  to  plunge  this  land  in  blood,  and 
to  cover  it  with  desolation.  At  every  step,  as  the  evi- 
dence of  the  crown  advanced,  my  innocency  has  bright- 
ened. So  far  from  inflaming  the  minds  of  men  to  se- 
dition and  outrage,  all  the  witnesses  have  concurred, 
that  my  only  anxiety  was,  to  impress  upon  them  the 
necessity  of  peace,  of  good  order,  and  of  good  morals. 

What  then  has  been  my  crime  ?  Not  the  lending  to 
a  relation  a  copy  of  Mr.  Paine's  Works  5  not  the  giving 
away  to  another  a  few  numbers  of  an  innocent  and 
constitutional  publication  ;  but  for  having  dared  to  be, 
according  to  the  measure  of  my  feeble  abilities,  a  stren- 
uous and  active  advocate  for  an  equal  representation  of 
the  PEOPLE,  in  the  HOUSE  OF  THE  PEOPLE; 
tor  having  daied  to  attempt  to  accomplish  a  measure,  by 
legal  means,  which  was  to  diminish  the  weight  of  their 
taxes,  and  to  put  an  end  to  the  e^Tusion  of  their  blood. 

From  my  infancy  to  this  moment,  I  have  devoted 
myself  to  the  cause  of  the  PEOPLE.  It  is  a  good 
cause.  It  will  ultimately  prevail.  It  will  finally  tri- 
umph. Say  then  openly,  in  your  verdict,  if  you  do  con- 
demn me,  which  I  presume  you  will  not,  that  it  is  for  my 
attachment  to  this  cause  alone,  and  not  for  those  vain  and 
wretched  pretexts  stated  in  the  indictment,  intended  on- 
ly to  colour  and  disguise  the  real  motives  of  my  accusa- 
tion. 


44  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

tioR.  The  time  will  come,  when  men  must  stand  or  fall 
by  their  actions ;  when  all  human  pageantry  shall  cease  ; 
when  the  hearts  of  all  shall  be  laid  open  to  view. 

If  you  regard  your  most  important  interests  ;  if  you 
wish  that  your  consciences  should  whisper  to  you 
w^ords  of  consolation,  rather  than  speak  to  you  in  the 
terrible  language  of  remorse,  weigh  well  the  verdict 
you  are  to  pronounce. 

As  for  me,  I  am  careless  and  indifferent  to  my  fate. 
I  can  look  danger,  and  I  can  look  death  in  the  face ; 
for  I  am  shielded  by  the  consciousness  of  my  own  recti- 
tude. I  may  be  condemned  to  languish  in  the  recesses 
of  a  dungeon.  I  may  be  doomed  to  ascend  the  scaf- 
fold. Nothing  can  deprive  me  of  the  recollection  of 
the  past ;  nothing  can  destroy  my  inward  peace  of 
mind,  arising  from  the  remembrance  of  having  dis- 
charged my  duty. 


On  the  starry  Heavens. 


TO  us  who  dwell  on  its  surface,  the  earth  is  by 
far  the  most  extensive  orb  that  our  eyes  can  any 
where  behold.  It  is  also  clothed  with  verdure  ;  dis- 
tinguished by  trees;  and  adorned  v/ith  a  variety  of 
beautiful  decorations.  Whereas,  to  a  spectator  placed 
on  one  of  the  planets,  it  wears  a  uniform  aspect ;  looks 
all  luminous,  and  no<.  larger  than  a  spot.  To  beings 
who  dwell  at  still  greater  distances,  it  entirely  dis- 
appears. 

That  which  we  call,  alternately,  the  morning  and 
evening  star ;  as  in  one  part  of  her  orbit,  she  rides 
foremost  in  the  procession  of  night ;  in  the  other,  ush- 
ers in,  and  anticipates  the  dawn,  is  a  planetary  world; 
which,  v/ith  the  five  others,  that  so  v/onderfully  vary 
their  mystic  dance,  are  in  themselves  dark  bodies,  and 
shine  only  by  reflection ;  have  fields, and  seas,  and  skies 
of  their  own ;  are  furnished  with  all  accommodations 

for 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  40 

for  animal  subsistence,  and  arc  supposed  to  be  abodes 
of  iiitcllectual  life.  All  which,  together  with  this  our 
earthly  habitation,  arc  dependant  on  that  grand  dis- 
penser of  divine  munificence,  the  sun  ;  receive  their 
light  from  the  distribution  of  his  ra}  s  :  derive  their 
comfort  from  his  divine  agency. 

The  sun  is  the  great  axle  of  heaven,  about  which, 
the  globe  v.e  inhabit,  and  other  more  spacious  orbs, 
wheel  their  stated  courses.  The  sun,  though  seem- 
ingly smaller  than  the  dial  it  illuminates,  is  abundant- 
ly larger  than  this  v.hole  earth  ;  on  which  so  manyjlofty 
mountains  rise,  and  such  vast  oceans  roll.  A  line,  ex- 
tending through  the  centre  of  that  resplendent  orb^ 
would  measure  more  than  eight  hundred  thousand 
miles.  A  girdle,  formed  to  suri'ound  it,  w^ould  require 
a  length  of  millions.  Were  its  solid  contents  to  be  es- 
timated, the  account  would  overpower  our  understand- 
ing, and  be  almost  beyond  the  power  of  language  to 
express. 

Are  we  startled  at  these  reports  of  astronomy  ?  Arc 
we  ready  to  cry  out  in  a  transport  of  surprise,  How- 
mighty  is  the  Being,  who  kindled  such  a  prodigious 
fire,  and  who  keeps  alive,  from  age  to  age,  such  an 
enormous  mass  of  flame  !  Let  us  attend  our  philosophic 
guides,  and  we  shall  be  brought  acquainted  with  spec- 
ulations more  enlarged,  and  more  am.azing. 

This  sun,  with  all  attendant  planets,  is  but  a  very 
little  part  of  the  grand  machine  of  the  universe.  Every 
star,  though  in  appearance  no  bigger  than  the  dia- 
mond that  glitters  on  a  lady's  ring,  is  really  a  mighty 
globe  ;  like  the  sun  in  size,  and  in  glory;  no  less  spa- 
cious ;  no  less  luminous  than  the  radiant  source  of  our 
day.  So  that  every  star  is  not  barely  a  world,  but  the 
centre  of  a  magnificent  system  ;  has  a  retinue  of  worlds, 
irradiated  by  its  beams,  and  revolving  round  its  attrac- 
tive induence.  All  which  are  lost  to  our  sight  in  un- 
measurable  wilds  of  ether. 

That  the  stars  appear  like  so  many  diminutive,  and 
scarcely  distinguishable  points,  is  owing  to  their  im- 
mense 


46  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

mense  and  inconceivable  distance.  Such  a  distance, 
that  a  cannon  ball,  could  it  continue  its  impetuous  flight, 
with  unaboting  rapidity,  would  not  reach  the  nearest 
of  those  twinkling  luminaries  for  more  than  five  hun- 
dred thousand  years ! 

Can  any  thing  be  more  wonderful  than  these  obser- 
vations ?  Yes  ;  there  are  truths  far  more  stupendous ; 
there  are  scenes  far  more  extensive.  As  there  is  no 
end  of  the  Almighty  Maker's  greatness,  so  no  imagina- 
tion can  set  limits  to  his  creating  hand.  Could  you 
soar  beyond  the  moon,  and  pass  through  all  the  planeta- 
ry choir;  could  you  wing  your  way  to  the  highest  appar- 
ent star,  and  take  your  stand  on  one  of  those  lofty  pin- 
nacles of  heaven,  you  would  there  see  other  skies  ex- 
panded; another  sun,  distributing  his  inexhaustible 
beams  by  day ;  other  stars  which  gild  the  horrors  of 
the  alternate  night ;  and  other,  perhaps,  nobler  systems, 
established  in  unknown  profusion,  through  the  bound- 
less dimensions  of  space.  Nor  do  the  dominions  of  the 
universal  Sovereign  terminate  there.  Even  at  the  end 
of  this  vast  tour,  you  would  find  yourself  advanced  no 
further  than  the  suburbs  of  creation  ;  arrived  only  att 
the  frontiers  of  the  great  JEHOVAH's  kingdom. 


Paper,  a  Poem. 


SOME  wit  of  old  ;  such  wits  of  old  there  were, 
Whose  hints  show'd  meaning,  whose  allusions,  care, 
By  one  brave  stroke,  to  mark  all  human  kind, 
CalPd  clear  blank  paper  every  infant  mind  ; 
When  still,  as  opening  sense  her  dictates  wrote, 
Fair  virtue  put  a  seal,  or  vice  a  blot. 

The  thought  was  happy,  pertinent,  and  true, 
Me  thinks  a  genius  might  the  plan  pursue. 
I,  (can  you  pardon  my  presumption  ?)  I, 
No  wit,  no  genius,  yet  for  once  will  try. 

Various 


I 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  47 

Various  the  papers,  various  wants  produce, 
The  wants  of  fashion,  elegance,  and  use. 
Men  are  as  various :  and,  if  right  I  scan, 
Each  sort  oi paper  represents  some  man. 

Pray  note  the  fop  ;  half  powder  and  half  lace  ; 
Nice,  as  a  band-box  were  his  dwelling-piace  ; 
lie's  the  gilt  paper,  which  apart  you  store, 
And  lock  from  vulgar  hands  in  the  scrutoire. 

Mechanics,  servants,  farmers,  and  so  forth, 
Are  copy  paper  of  inferior  worth  ; 
Less  priz'd,  more  useful,  for  your  desk  decreed. 
Free  to  all  pens,  and  prompt  at  ev'ry  need. 

The  wretch,  whom  av'rice  bids  to  pinch  and  spare, 
Starve,  cheat,  and  pilfer,  to  enrich  an  heir, 
Is  coarse  brown  paper,  such  as  pedlars  choose 
To  wrap  up  wares,  which  better  men  will  use. 

Take  next  the  miser's  contrast,  who  destroys 
Health,  fame,  and  fortune,  in  a  round  of  joys.  ^ 

Will  any  paper  match  him  ?  Yes,  throughout. 
He's  a  true  sinking  paper,  past  all  doubt. 

The  retail  politician's  anxious  thought 
Deems  this  side  always  right,  and  that  stark  naught; 
He  foams  with  censure  ;  with  applause  he  raves, 
A  dupe  to  rumours,  and  a  tool  of  knaves  : 
He'll  want  no  type  his  weakness  to  proclaim, 
While  such  a  thing  diS  fools-cap  has  a  name. 

The  hasty  gentleman,  whose  blood  runs  high, 
Who  picks  a  quarrel  if  you  step  awry. 
Who  can't  a  jest,  or  hint,  or  look  endure  : 
What's  he  ?  What  ?  Touch-paper  to  be  sure. 

What  are  our  poets,  take  them  as  they  fall, 
Good,  bad,  rich,  poor,  much  read,  not  read  at  all? 
Them  and  thf  ir  works  in  the  same  class  you'll  find ; 
They  are  the  mere  waste-paper  of  mankind. 

JjL  Observe 


48  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Observe  the  maiden,  innocently  sweet, 
She's  fair  white  paper,  an  unsullied  sheet ; 
On  which  the  happy  man,  whom  fate  ordains, 
May  write  his  name,  and  take, her  for  his  pains. 


's  "> 


One  instance  more,  and  only  one  Pll  brinj 
'Tis  the  great  man  who  scorns  a  little  thing ; 
Whose  thoughts, whose  deeds, whose  maxims  are  his  own. 
Form'd  on  the  feelings  of  his  heart  alone  : 
True  genuine  royal  paper  is  his  breast ; 
Of  all  the  kinds  most  precious,  purest,  best. 


Extract  from  Cato's  Speech  before  the  Ro- 
man Senate,  after  the  Conspiracy  of  Cati- 
line. 


J'  HAVE  often  spoken  before  you.  Fathers,  with 
*  some  extent,  to  qomplain  of  luxury  and  the  greedi- 
ness for  money,  the  twin  vices  of  our  corrupt  citizens  ; 
and  have  thereby  drawn  upon  myself  abundance 
of  enemies.  As  I  never  spared  any  fault  in  myself, 
I  was  not  easily  inclined  to  favour  the  criminal  ex- 
cesses of  others. 

But  though  you  paid  little  regard  to  my  remon- 
strances, the  Commonwealth  has  still  subsisted  by  its 
own  strength  ;  has  borne  itself  up,  notwithstanding 
5'our  neglect.  It  is  not  now  the  same.  Our  manners, 
good  or  bad,  are  not  the  question,  nor  to  preserve  the 
greatness  and  lustre  of  the  Roman  empire  :  but  to 
resolve  whether  all  we  possess  and  govern,  well  or  ill, 
shall  continue  our's,  or  be  transferred  with  ourselves 
to  enemies. 

At  such  a  time,  in  such  a  state,  some  talk  to  us  of 
lenity  and  compassion.  It  is  long  that  we  have  lost 
the  right  names  of  things.  The  Common w^en  1th  is  in 
this  deplorable  situation,  only  because  we  call  bestow- 
ing 


^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  49 

ing other  people's  estates,  liberality,  and  audaciousness 
in  perpetrating  crimes,  courage. 

Let  such  men,  since  they  will  have  it  so,  and  it  is 
become  the  established  mode,  value  themselves  upon 
their  liberality  at  the  expense  of  the  allies  of  the  em- 
pire, and  of  their  lenity  to  the  robbci-s  of  the  public 
treasury  :  but  let  them  not  make  a  largess  of  our  blood  ; 
and,  to  spare  a  small  number  of  vile  wrctclies,  expose  all 
good  men  to  destruction. 

Do  not  imagine,  Fathers,  that  it  was  by  arms  our 
ancestors  rendered  this  Commonwealth  so  great,  from 
so  small  a  beginning.  If  it  had  been  so,  we  should 
now  see  it  much  more  flourishing,  as  we  have  more  al- 
lies and  citizens,  more  horse  and  foot,  than  they  had. 
But  they  had  other  things,  that  made  them  great,  of 
which  no  traces  remain  amongst  us  :  at  home,  labor 
and  industry ;  abroad,  just  and  equitable  government ; 
a  constancy  of  soul,  and  an  innocence  of  manners, 
that  kept  them  perfectly  free  in  their  councils  ;  unre- 
-strained  either  by  tke  remembrance  of  past  crimes,  or 
by  craving  appetites  to  satisfy. 

For  these  virtues,  we  have  luxury  and  avarice ;  or 
madness  to  squander,  joined  with  no  less,  to  gain  ; 
the  State  is  poor,  and  private  men  are  rich.  We  ad- 
mire nothing  but  riches  ;  we  give  ourselves  up  to  sloth 
and  effeminacy  ;  we  make  no  distinction  between  the 
good  and  the  bad ;  whilst  ambition  engrosses  all  the  re- 
wards of  virtue.  Do  you  wonder,  then,  that  danger- 
ous conspiracies  should  be  formed  ?  Whilst  you  regard 
nothing  but  your  private  interest  ;  whilst  voluptuous- 
ness solely  employs  you  at  home,  and  avidity  or  favor 
governs  you  here,  the  Commonwealth,  without  defence, 
is  exposed  to  the  devices  of  any  one  who  thinks  fit  to 
attack  it. 

DiALOGIfE 

E 


A 


50  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Dialogue  between  the  Ghosts  of  an  English 
Duellist,  a  North-American  Savage,  and  Mer- 
cury. 


r>     7/-  .  TV  /TERCURY,  Charon's  boat  is  on  the 

Duellist.         JYI     ^^j^^^,  gjj^  ^^  ^j^^  ^^^^^^,^     ^jl^^^ 

me,  before  it  returns,  to  have  some  conversation 
with  the  North- American  Savage,  whom  you  brought 
hither  with  me.  I  never  before  saw  one  of  that  spe- 
cies. He  looks  very  grim.  Pray,  Sir,  w'hat  is  your 
name  ?  I  understand  you  speak  English. 

Savage,  Yes,  I  learned  it  in  my  childhood,  having 
been  bred  for  some  years  among  the  English  of  New- 
Y^ork.  But,  before  I  was  a  man,  I  returned  to  my  val- 
iant countrymen,  the  Mohawks ;  and  having  been  vil- 
ianously  cheated  by  one  of  your's  in  the  sale  of  some 
rum,  1  never  cared  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  them 
afterwards.  Yet  I  took  up  the  hatchet  for  them  with 
the  rest  of  my  tribe  in  the  late  war  against  France,  and 
was  killed  v/hile  I  was  out  upon  a  scalping  party.  But 
I  died  very  well  satisfied :  for  my  brethren  were  vic- 
torious ;  and,  before  I  was  shot,  1  had  gloriously  scalp- 
ed seven  men,  and  five  women  and  children.  In  a 
former  war,  I  had  performed  still  greater  exploits.  My 
name  is  the  Bloody  Bear  :  it  was  given  me  to  express 
my  fierceness  and  valour. 

DueL  Bloody  Bear,  I  respect  you,  and  am  much 
your  humble  servant.  My  name  is  Tom  Pushwell, 
very  well  known  at  Arthtu-'s.  1  am  a  gentleman  by  my 
birth,  and  by  profession  a  gamester  and  a  man  of  hon- 
or, i  have  killed  men  in  fair  fighting,  in  honorable 
single  combat  ;  but  don't  understand  cutting  the 
throats  of  women  and  children.   ^ 

Sav.  Sir,  that  is  our  way  of  making  war.  Every  na- 
tion has  its  customs.  But  by  the  grimness  of  your  coun- 
tenance,, and  that  hole  in  your  breast,  I  presume  you 

were 


A 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  51 

were  killed  as  I  was,  in  some  scalping  party.  How  hap- 
pened it  that  your  enemy  did  not  take  off  your  scalp  ? 

Duel.  Sir,  I  was  killed  in  a  duel.  A  friend  of  mine 
had  lent  me  a  sum  of  money  ;  and  after  two  or  three 
years,  being  in  great  want  himself,  he  asked  me  to 
pay  him.  I  thought  his  demand,  which  was  somewhat 
peremptory,  an  aflront  to  my  honor,  and  sent  him  a 
challenge.  We  met  in  Hyde  Park.  The  fellow  could 
not  fence  :  but  i  was  absolutely  the  adroitest  swords- 
man in  England.  So  I  gave  him  three  or  four  wo]^nds  ; 
but  at  last  he  ran  upon  me  with  such  impetuosity,  that 
he  put  me  out  of  my  play,  and  J  could  not  prevent  him 
from  vvhipping  me  through  the  lungs.  I  died  the  next 
day,  as  a  man  of  honor  should  ;  vv'ithout  any  snivelling 
signs  of  contrition  or  repentance  :  and  he\viil  follow 
me  soon  ;  for  his  surgeon  has  declared  his  wounds  to 
be  mortal.  It  is  said  that  his  wife  is  dead  of  grief,  and 
that  his  family  of  seven  children  will  be  undone  by  his 
deaths  So  I  am  well  revenged,  and  that  is  a  comfort. 
For  my  part,  I  had  no  wife.  I  always  hated  marriage  : 
my  mistress  will  take  good  care  of  herself,  and  my  chil- 
dren are  provided  for  at  the  foundling  hospital. 

Sav.  Mercury,  I  won't  go  in  the  boat  with  that 
fellow.  He  has  murdered  his  countryman  ;  he  has 
murdered  his  friend  :  I  say  positively,  I  won't  go  in 
the  boat  with  that  fellow.  I  will  swim  over  the  river : 
I  can  swim  like  a  duck. 

;  Mer,  Swim  over  the  Styx!  it  must  not  be  done  : 
It  is  against  the  laws  of  Pluto's  empire.  You  must  go 
m  the  boat  and  be  quiet. 

Sav,  Don't  tell  mc  of  lav/s  :  I  am  a  savage  :  I  value 
no  laws.  7'alk  of  laws  to  the  Englishman:  there 
are  laws  in  his  country  ;  and  yet  you  see  he  did  not 
regard  them.  For  they  could  never  allow  him  to  kill 
his  fellow-subject,  in  time  of  peace,  because  he  ask- 
ed him  to  pay  an  honest  debt.  I  know,  indeed,  that 
the  English  are  a  barbarous  nation  :  but  they  can't 
possibly  be  so  brutal  as  to  make  such  things  laAvful. 

Mer. 


62  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Mer,  You  reason  well  agamst  him.  But  how  cemcs 
it  that  you  are  so  offended  with  murder;  you,  who 
have  frequently  massacred  wouien  in  their  sleep,  and 
thildren  in  the  eradk  ? 

Sav.  1  killfed  none  but  my  enemies :  I  never  kiHed 
my  own  countrymen  :  I  never  killed  my  friend. 
Here,  take  my  blanket,  and  let  it  come  over  in  the 
boat ;  but  see  that  the  murderer  does  not  sit  upon  it, 
or  touch  it.  If  he  does,  1  will  burn  it  instantly  in  the 
fire  I  see  yonder.  Farewell.  I  am  determined  to  Swim 
over  the  water. 

JUer,  By  this  touch  of  my  wand,  I  deprive  thee  of 
ail  thy  strength.     Swim  now  if  thou  canst. 

Sav.  This  is  a  potent  enchanter.  Restore  me  my 
strength,  and  I  promise  to  obey  thee. 

Mer.  I  restore  ^t ;  but  be  orderly,  and  do.  as  1  bid 
vou  ;  otherv/ise  worse  will  befal  you. 
'•  DueL  Mercury,  leave  him  to  me.  I'll  tutor  him 
for  you.  Sirrah  Savage,  dost  thou  pTCtend  to  be  asha- 
med of  my  company  ?  Dost  thou  not  know  that  I  have 
kept  the  best  company  in  England  ? 

Sav,  I  know  thou  art  a  scoundrel.  Not  pay  thy 
debts  !  kill  thy  friend  who  lent  thee  money  for  asking 
thee  for  it !  Get  out  of  my  sight.  I  will  drive  thee 
into  the  Styx.  . 

Mer.  Stop.     I  command  thee.    No  violence,     lalk^ 

to  him  calmly.  ^  , 

Sav.  I  must  obey  thee.  Well,  Sir,  let  me  know 
what  merit  you  had  to  introduce  you  into  good  com- 
pany ?  What  could  you  do  ? 

'    Duel.  Sir,  I  gamed,  as  t  told  you.     Besides,  1  kept 
a  good  table.     I  eat  as  well  as  any  man  either  in  En- 
,  dand  or  France.  r      -r.        u 

Sav.  Eat !  did  vou  ever  eat  the  liver  of  a  French- 
man, qr  his  leg,  or  his  shoulder?  There  is  fine  eatmg 
for  you!  I  have  eat  twenty.  My  table  was  always 
well  served.  My  wife  was  esteemed  the  best  cook  for 
the  dressing  of  man's  flesh  in  all  North- America.  You 
will  not  pretend  to  compare  your  eating  with  mine  ? 

H  DueL 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  53 

DiieL  I  danced  very  finely. 

Sav.  I'll  dance  with  thee  tor  thy  cars^.  I  can  dance 
all*  day  long.  I  can  dance  the  war  dance  with  more- 
spirit  than  any  man  of  my  nation.  Let  us  see  thee 
begin  it.  How  thou  stande^t  like  a  post !  Has  Mercury 
struck  thee  with  his  enfeebling  rod  ?  Or  art  thou  asha- 
med to  let  us  see  how  awkward  thou  art  ?  If  he 
would  permit  me,  I  would  teach  thee  to  dance  in  a 
way  that  thou  hast  never  yet  learned.  But  what  else 
canst  thou  do,  thou  bragging  rascal  ? 

DueL  O  misery!  must  I'bcar  all  this!  What  can 
I  do  with  this  fellow  ?  I  have  neither  sword  nor  pis- 
tol ;  and  his  shade  seems  to  be  twice  as  strong  as  mine. 

Mer,  You  must  answer  his  questions.  It  was  your 
own  desire  to  have  a  conversation  with  him.  He  is 
not  well  bred  ;  but  he  will  tell  you  some  truths  which 
you  must  necessarily  hear,  when  you  come  before  Rha- 
damanthus.  He  asked  you  v/hat  you  could  do  beside 
eating  and  dancing. 

Duel,  I  sung  very  agreeably. 

Sav,  Let  me  hear  you  sing  your  death  song;  or  the 
war  \vhoop.  I  challenge  you  to  sing.  Come,  begin. 
The  fellow  is  mute.  Mercury,  this  is  a  liar.  He 
has  told  us  nothing-  but  lies.  Let  me  pull  out  his 
tongue. 

Dud,  The  lie  given  me !  and  alas !  I  dare  not  re- 
sent" it !  What  an  indelible  disgrace  to  the  family  of  the 
Pushwells  !  This  is  indeed  tormenting. 

Mer,  Here,  Charon,  take  these  two  savages  to  your 
care.  How  far  the  barbarism  of  the  Mohawk  will  ex- 
cuse his  horrid  acts,  I  leave  Minos  to  judge.  But  what 
can  be  said  for  the  Englishman  ?  Can  we  plead  the 
custom  cf  Duelling  ?  A  bad  excuse  at  the  best !  but 
h^re  it  cannot  avail.  The  spirit  that  urged  him  to  draw 
his  sword  against  his  friend  is  not  that  of  honor  ;  it  is 
the  spirit  of  the  furies  ;  and  to  them  he  must  go. 

Sav,  If  he  is  to  be  punished  for  his  wickedness,  turn 
hjm  over  to  me.     I  perfectly  understand  the  art  of  tor- 
menting.    Sirrah,  I  begin  my  wwk  with  this  box  on 
E  2  youp ' 


54  THE  COLUMBIA^;  ORATOR. 

your  ears,  and  will  soon  teach  you  better  manners  than 
you  have  yet  learned. 

Duel,  Oh  my  honor,  my  honor,  to  what  infamy  art 
thou  fallen  \ 


Speech  of  an  Indian  Chief,  of  the  Stockbridge 
Tribe,  to  the  Massachusetts  Congress,  in  the 
Year  1775. 


Brothers \ 

YOU  remember,  when  you  first  came  over  the 
great  waters,  I  was  great  and  you  were  little  ; 
very  small.  I  then  took  you  in  for  a  friend,  and  kept 
you  under  my  arms,  so  that  no  one  might  injure  you. 
Since  that  time  we  have  ever  been  true  friends  :  there 
has  never  been  any  quarrel  between  us.  But  now  our 
conditions  are  changed.  You  are  become  great  and 
tall.  You  reach  to  the  clouds.  You  are  seen  all 
round  the  world.  I  am  become  small ;  very  little. 
I  am  not  so  high  as  your  knee.  Now  you  take  care  of 
me  ;  and  I  look  to  you  for  protection. 

Brothers  !  I  am  sorry  to  hear  of  this  great  quar- 
rel between  you  and  Old  England.  It  appears  that 
blood  must  soon  be  shed  to  end  this  quarrel.  We  never 
till  this  day  understood  the  foundation  of  this  quarrel 
between  you  and  the  country  you  came  from.  Brot}i- 
ers!  Whenever  I  see  your  blood  running,  you  will 
soon  find  me  about  you  to  revenge  my  brothers'  blood. 
Although  I  am  low  and  very  small,  I  will  gripe  hold  of 
your  enemy's  heel,  that  he  cannot  run  so  fast,  and  so 
light,  as  if  he  had  nothing  at  his  heels. 

Brothers  !  You  know  I  am  not  so  wise  as  you  are, 
therefore  I  ask  your  advice  in  what  I  am  now  going  to 
say.  I  have  been  thinking,  before  you  come  to  action, 
to  take  a  run  to  the  westward,  and  feel  the  mind  of 
my  Indian  brethren,  the  Six  Nations,  and  know  how. 
'hey  stand;   whether  they  are  on  your  side,  or  foj' 

-    •  YOU 


I 

\ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  55 

your  enemies.  If  I  find  they  are  against  vou,  I  will 
try  to  turn  their  minds.  I  think  they  will  listen  to 
me  -,  for  they  have  always  looked  this  way  for  advice, 
concerning  all  important  news  that  comes  from  the 
rising  sun.  If  they  hearken  to  me,  you  will  not  be 
afraid  of  any  danger  from  behind  you.  However  their 
minds  are  affected,  you  shall  soon  know  by  me.  Now 
I  think  I  can  do  you  more  service  in  this  way  than  by 
marching  off  imm'ediately  to  Boston,  and  staying  there. 
It  may  be  a  great  while  before  blood  runs.  Now,  as 
I  said,  you  are  wiser  than  I,  I  leave  this  for  your  con- 
sideration, whether  I  come  down  immediately,  or  wait 
till  I  hear  some  blood  is  spilkd. 

Brothers !  I  would  not  have  you  think  by  this,  that 
we  are  falling  back  from  our  engagements.     We  are 
*  ready  to  do  any  thing  for  your  relief,  and  shall  be  gui- 
ded by  your  counsel. 

Brothers!  one  diing  I  ask  of  you,  if  you  send  for 
ine  to  fight,  that  you  will  let  me  fight  in  my  own  Indian 
way.  I  am  not  used  to  fight  English  fashion  ;  there- 
fore you  must  not  expect  1  can  train  like  your  men. 
Only  point  out  to  me  where  your  enemies  keep,  and 
that  is  all  1  shall  want  to  know. 


On  the  Creation  of  the  Wori^d. 


^¥10  the  ancient  philosophers,  creation  from  nothing- 
X  appeared  an  unintelligible  idea.  They  niain- 
tained  the  eternal  existence  of  matter,  which  they 
supposed  to  be  modelled  by  the  sovereign  mind  of  the 
universe,  into  the  form  which  the  earth  now  exhibits. 
But  there  is  nothing  in  this  opinion  which  gives  it  any 
title  to  be  opposed  to  the  authority  of  revelation.  The 
doctrine  of  two  self-existent,  independent  principles, 
God  and  matter,  the  one  active,  the  other  passive,  is  a 
hypothesis  which  presents  ditficulties  to  human  reason, 
at  least  as  great  as  the  creation  of  matter  from  nothing. 
.  Adhering  thea  to  the  testimony  of  scripture,  we  believe, 

that 


Jo  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

that  "  in  the  beginning,  God  created,"  or  from  non-ex- 
istence brought  into  being, "  the  heavens  and  the  earth/'' 

But  though  there  was, a  period  when  this  globe, 
with  all  that  we  see  upon  it,  did  not  exist,  we  have  no 
reason  to  think,  that  the  wisdom  and  power  of  the 
Almighty  were  then  without  exercise  or  employment. 
Boundless  is  the  extent  of  bis  dominion.  Other  globes 
and  worlds,  enlightened  by  other  suns,  may  then  have 
occupied,  they  still  appear  to  occupy,  the  immense 
regions  of.space.  Numberless  orders  of  beings,  to  us 
unknown,  pebple  the  wide  extent  of  the  universe,  and 
afford  an  endless  variety  of  objects  to  the  ruling  care 
of[  the  i^reat  Father  of  all.  At  length,  in  the  cqjirse 
and  progress  of  his  government,  there  arrived  a  period, 
when  this  earth  was  to  be  ca"ed  into  existence.  When 
the  signal  moment  predestinated  from  all  eternity,  was 
come,  the  Dciry  arose  in  his  might,  and  with  a  word 
created  the  world. 

What  an  illustrious  moment  was  that,  when,  from 
non-existence,  there  sprang  at  once  into  being  this 
mighty  globe,  on  which  so  many  millions  of  creatures 
now  dwell !  No  preparatory  measures  were  required. 
No  long  circuit  of  means  was  employed.  *'  He  spake  ; 
and  it  was  done  :  He  commanded,  and  it  stood  iast." 
The  earth  was,  at  first,  "  wiihout  form,  and  void  ;  and 
darkness  Vv^as  upon  the  face  of  the  deep."  The  Almighty ' 
surveyed  the  dark  abyss  ;  and  fixed  bounds  to  the  sev- 
eral divisions  of  nature.  He  said,  "  Let  there  be  light, 
and  there  was  light." 

Tlitn  appeared  the  sea,  and  the  dry  land.  The 
mountains  rose ;  and  the  rivers  flowed.  The  sun  and 
rnoon  began  their  course  in  the, skies.  Herbs  and  plants 
clothed  the  ground.  The  air,  the  earth,  and  the  wa- 
ters were  stored  v/ith  their  respective  inhabitants.  At 
last,  man  was  made  after  the  image  of  God.  He  ap- 
peared, walking  with  countenance  erect;  and  received 
his  Creator's  benediction,  as  the  lord  of  this  new 
world.  The  Almighty  beheld  his  work  when  it  was 
firushed,  and  pronounced  it  good.   Superior  beings  saw 

with' 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  57 

with  wondtT  this  new  accession  to  existence.  *'  The 
morning  stars  sang  together ;  and  all  the  sons  of  God 
sliouted  for  joy.'* 

But,  on  thii,  great  work  of  creation,  let  us  not  mere- 
ly gaze  with  astonishment.  Let  us  consider  how  it 
should  affect  our  conduct,  by  presenting  the  divine  per- 
fections in  a  light  which  is  at  once  edifying  and  com- 
forting to  man.  It  displays  the  Creator  as  supreme  in 
power,  in  wisdom,  and  in  goodness.  Let  us  look  around, 
and  survey  thU  stupendous  edifice:  which  we  have  been 
admitted  to  inhabit.  L^t  us  think  of  the  extent  of  the 
different  climates  and  regions  of  the  earth  ;  of  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  mount?. ins,  and  ©f  the  expanse  cf  the 
ocean.  Let  us  conceive  that  immense  globe  which  con- 
tains them,  launched  at  once  from  the  hand  of  the  Al- 
mighty ;  made  to  revolve  incessantly  on  its  axis,  that  it 
might  produce  the  vicissitudes  of  day  and  night;  thrown 
forth,  at  the  same  time,  to  run  its  annual  course  in  per- 
petual circuit  through  the  heavens. 

After  such  a  meditation,  where  is  the  greatness, 
where  is  the  pride  of  man  ?  Into  what  total  annihila- 
tion do  we  sink,  before  an  omnipotent  Being  f  Rever- 
ence, and  humble  adoration  ought  spontaneously  to 
arise.  He,  who  feels  no  propensity  to  worship  and 
adore,  is  dead  to  all  sense  of  grandeur  and  majesty ; 
has  extinguished  one  of  the  most  natural  feelings  of  the 
human  heart. 


Lines  spoken  at  a  School-Exhibition,   by  a  lit- 
tle Boy  SEVEN  Years  old. 


YOU'D  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age, 
To  speak  in  public,  on  the  stage  ; 
And  if  I  chance  to  fall  below 
Demosthenes  or  Cicero, 
Don't  view  me  with  a  critic's  eye, 
B*v*t  pass  my  imperfectioius  by. 


Larg^: 


58  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Large  streams  from  little  fountains  flow ; 

Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow : 

And  though  I  now  am  small  and  young, 

Of  judgment  weak,  and  feeble  tongue  ; 

Yet  all  great  learned  men,  like  me, 

Once  learn'd  to  read  their  A,  B,  C. 

But  why  may  not  Columbia's  soil 

Rear  men  as  great  as  Britain's  isle ; 

Exceed  what  Greece  and  Rome  have  done, 

Or  any  land  beneath  the  sun  ? 

Mayn't  Massachusetts  boast  as  great 

As  any  other  sister  state  ?  - 

Or,  Where's  the  town,  go  far  and  near, 

That  does  not  iind  a  rival  here  ? 

Or  Where's  the  boy,  but  three  feet  high. 

Who's  made  improvements  more  than  I  ? 

These  thoughts  inspire  my  youthful  mind 

To  be  the  greatest  of  mankind ; 

Great,  not  like  Cesar,  stain'd  with  blood  j  ^ 

But  only  great,  as  I  am  good. 

Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech  m  the  British 

Parliament,  in  the  Year  1766,  on  the  Subject 
OF  THE  Stamp-Act. 


IT  is  a  long  time,  Mr.  Speaker,  since  I^have  attended 
in  Parliament.  When  the  resolution  was  taken  in 
the  House  to  tax  America,  I  was  ill  in  bed.  If  I 
could  have  endured  to  have  been  carried  in  my  bed, 
so  great  was  the  agitation  of  my  mind  for  the  conse- 
quences, that  I  would  have  solicited  some  kind  hand  to 
have  laid  me  down  on  this  floor,  to  have  borne  my  tes- 
timony against  it.  It  is  now  an  act  that  has  passed. 
I  would  speak  with  decency  of  every  act  of  this  House  ; 
but  I  must  beg  the  indulgence  of  the  House  to  speak  of 
it  with  freedom. 

I  hope  a  day  may  be  soon  appointed  to  consider  the 
state  of  the  nation  with  respect  to  America. '  I  hope 

gentlemen 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  5D 

gentlemen  will  come  to  this  debate  with  all  the  temper 
and  impartiality  that  his  Majesty  recommends,  and  the 
importance  of  the  subject  requires.  A  subject  of  great- 
er important  than  ever  engaged  the  attention  of  this 
House  !  That  subject  only  excepted,  when,  nearly  a 
century  ago,  it  was  the  question  Avhether  you  yourselves 
were  to  be  bond  or  free.  In  the  mean  time,  as  I  caur 
not  depend  upon  health  for  any  future  day,  such  is  the 
nature  of  my  infirmities,  I  will  beg  to  say  a  few  words 
at  present,  leaving  the  justice,  the  equity,  the  policy, 
the  expediency  of  the  act  to  another  time. 

1  will  only  speak  to  one  point,  which  seems  not  to 
have  been  generally  understood.  Some  gentlemen 
seem  to  have  considered  it  as  a  point  of  honor.  If  gen- 
tlemen consider  it  in  that  light,  they  leave  all  measures 
of  right  and  wrong,  to  follow  a  delusion  that  may  lead 
to  destruction.  It  is  my  opinion  that  this  kingdom  has 
no  right  to  lay  a  tax  upon  the  Colonies.  When  in  this 
House  we  give  and  grant,  we  give  and  grant  what  is 
our  own.  But  in  an  American"  tax,  what  do  we  do  ? 
We,  your  Majesty's  Commons  of  Great-Britain,  give 
and  grant  to  your  Majesty,  what?  our  own  property? 
No.  We  give  and  grant  to  your  Majesty,  the  property 
of  your  Majesty's  Commons  of  America.  It  is  an  ab- 
surdity in  terms. 

There  is  aii  idea  in  some,  that  the  Colonies  are  vir- 
tually represented  in  this  House.  I  would  fain  know 
by  whom  an  American  is  represented  here  ?  Is  he  rep~, 
resented  by  any  knight  of  the  shire,  in  any  county  in 
this  kingdom  ?  Or  v/ill  yoa  tell  him  that  he  is  repre- 
sented by  any  representative  of  a  borough  ;  a  borough, 
v/hich  perhaps  no  man  ever  saw  ?  This  is  what  is  called 
the  rotten  part  of  the  Constitution.  It  cannot  con- 
tinue a  century.  If  it  does  not  drop,  it  must  be  ampu- 
tated. The  idea  of  a  virtual  representation  of  America, 
in  this  House,  is  the  most  ^contemptible  idea  that  ever 
entered  into  the  head  of  a  man.  It  does  not  deserve  a 
serious  refutation. 

The 


m  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

The  Commons  of  America,  represented  in  their  sev- 
eral assemblies,  have  ever  been  in  possession  of  the 
exercise  of  this,  their  constitutional  right  of  giving  and 
granting  their  ^own  money.  They  would  have  been 
slaves  if  they  had  not  enjoyed  it. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  without  doors,  of  the 
power,  of  the  strength  of  America.  It  is  a  topic  which 
ought  to  be  cautiously  meddled  with.  In  a  good  cause, 
on  a  so^nd  bottom,  the  force  of  this  country  can  crush 
America  to  atoms.  I  know  the  valour  of  your  troops.. 
I  know  the  skill  of  your  officers.  There  is  not  a  com- 
pany of  foot  that  has  served  in  America,  out  of  which 
you  may  not  pick  a  man  of  sufficient  knowledge  and 
experience,  to  make  a  governor  of  a  colony  there.  Buv 
©n  this  ground,  on  the  Stamp-Act,  when  so  many  here 
will  think  it  a  crying  injustice,  I  am  one  who  will  lift 
up  my  hands  against  it. 

In  such  a  cause,  your  success  would  be  hazardous. 
America,  if  she  fell,  would  fall  like  the  strong  man. 
She  would  embrace  the  pillars  of  the  State,  and  pull 
down  the  constitution  along  with  her.  Is  this  your 
boasted  peace  ?  Not  to  sheath  the  sword  in  its  scab- 
bard, but  to  sheath  it  in  the  bowels  of  your  country- 
men ?  Will  you  quarrel  with  yourselves,  now  the  whole 
house  of  Bourbon  is  united  against  you  ? 

The  Americans  have  been  wronged.  They  have 
been  driven  to  madness  by  injustice.  Will  you  punish 
them  for  the  madness  ypu  have  occasioned  ?  Rather 
let  prudence  and  temper  come  first  from  this  side.  I 
will  undertake  for  America,  that  she  will  follow  the 
example. 

Upon  the  whole,  I  will  beg  leave  to  tell  the  House 
what  is  really  my  opinion.  It  is,  that  the  Stamp-Acl, 
fee  repealed  absolutely,  totally,  and  inamediately. 


Scene 


THE  tJOLUMBlAN  Oi'lATOR.  ^1 


Scene  from  the  Farce  of  Lethe. 


Enter  Mr,  and  Mrs,  Tatoo,  and  JEsOT, 

Mrs.  Tat,     ■\;\7HY  don't  you  come  along,  Mr. 
V  V    Tatoo  ?  what  the  deuce  are  you 
afraid  of? 

,^s.  Don't  be  angry, young  lady  ;  the  gentlemanis 
your  husband,  I  suppose. 

Mrs,  Tat,  How  do  you  know  that,  Su' ?  What, 
you  an't  all  conjurers  in  this  world,  are  you  ? 

^s.  Your  behaviour  to  hini  is  sufficient  proof  of 
his  condition,  without  the  gift  of  conjuration. 

Mrs,  Tat.  Why,  I  was  as  free  with  him  before  mar- 
riage as  I  am  now ;  I  never  was  coy  or  prudish  in  my 
life. 

,^8.  I  believe  you,  madam;  pray,  how  long  have 
you  been  married?  you  seem  to  be  very  young, 
madam. 

Mrs.  Tat.  I  am  old  enough  for  a  husband,  and 
have  been  married  long  enough  to  be  tired  of  one. 

,^8,  How  long,  pray  ? 

Mrs,  Tat.  Why,  above  three  months:  I  married 
Mr.  Tatoo  without  my  guardian's  consent. 

.^s.  If  you  married  nim  with  your  own  consent,  I 
think  you  might  continue  your  affection  a  little  longer. 

Mrs.  Tat.  What  signifies  what  you  think,  if  I  don't 
think  so  ?  We  are  quite  tired  of  one  another,  and  ai'e 
come  to  drink  some  of  yoiu*  le — lethaly — le-lethily,  1 
think  they  call  it,  to  forget  one  another,  and  be  unmar- 
ried again. 

jEs.  The  waters  can't  divorce  you,  madam;  and 
you  may  easily  forget  him  without  the  assistance  of 
lethe. 

Mr.  Tat.  Aye !  how  so  ? 

,^3.  By  remembering  continually  he  is  your  huSi 
band :  there  are  several  ladies  have  no  other  receipt* 
But  what  does  the  gentleman  say  to  Uiis  ? 

F  4H^* 


02  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Mrs,  Tat.  What  signifies  what  he  says  ?  I  an't  so 
young  and  so  foolish  as  that  comes  to,  to  be  directed 
by  my  husband,  or  to  care  what  either  he-says,  or  you 
say. 

Mr.  Tat.  Sir,  I  was  a  drummer  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment, when  I  ran  away  with  that  young  lady.  I  im- 
mediately bought  out  of  the  corps,  and  thought  myself 
made  forever ;  little  imagining  that  a  poor  vain  fellow 
was  purchasing  fortune  at  the  expense  of  his  happiness. 

./E5.  'Tis  even  so,  friend  ;  fortune  and  felicity  are  as 
often  at  variance  as  man  and  wife. 

Mr.  Tat.  I  found  it  so.  Sir.  This  high  life  (as  I 
thought  it)  did  not  agree  with  me  ;  I  have  not  laugh'd, 
and  scarcely  slept,  since  my  advancement ;  and  unless 
your  worship  can  alter  her  notions,  I  must  e'en  quit  the 
blessings  of  a  fine  lady  and  her  portion,  and,  for  con- 
tent, have  recourse  to  eight  pence  a-day  and  my  drum 
again. 

.>^s.  Pray,  who  has  advised  you  to  a  separation  ? 

Mrs.  Tat.  Several  young  ladies  of  my  acquaintance  ; 
who  tell  me,  they  are  not  angry  at  me  for  marrying 
him ;  but  for  being  fond  of  him  since  I  have  married 
him  ;  and  they  say  I  should  be  as  complete  a  fine  lady 
as  any  of  them,  if  I  would  but  prov:ure  a  separate  di- 
vorcement. 

^s.  Pray,  madam,  will  you  let  me  know  what  you 
call  a  fine  lady  ? 

Mrs.  Tat.  Why,  a  fine  lady,  and  a  fine  gentleman, 
are  tw^o  of  the  finest  things  upon  earth. 

^s.  I  have  just  now  had  the  honour  of  knowing  what 
a  fine  gentleman  is ;  so,  pray  confine  yourself  to  the 

Mrs.  Tat.  A  fine  lady,  before  marriage,  lives  with 

her  papa  and  mamma,  who  breed  her  up  till  she  learns 

to  despise  them,  and  resolves  to, do  nothing  they  bid 

her ;  this  makes  her  such  a  prodigious  favorite,  that 

she  wants  for  nothing.     And  when  once  she  is  her  own 

mistress,  then  comes  the  pleasure  ! 

M.^.  Pray  let  us  hear. 

•^  Mrs; 


I 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  63 

Mrs,  Tat.  She  lies  in  bed  all  ihc  morning,  rattles 
about  all  day,  and  sits  up- all  night;  she  goes  every 
where,  and  sees  every  thing  ;  knows  every  body,  and 
loves  no  body  ;  ridicules  her  friends,  coquets  with  her 
lovers,  sets  them  together  by  the  qars,  tells  fibs,  makes 
mischief,  buys  china,  cheats  at  cards,  keeps  a  lap-dog, 
and  hates  the  parson  ;  she  laughs  much,  talks  loud. 
never  blushes,  says  vrhat  she  will,  does  what  she  will, 
goes  where  she  will,  marries  whom  she  pleases,  hates 
her  husband  in  a  month,  breaks  his  heart  in  four,  be- 
comes a  widow,  slips  from  her  gallants,  and  begins  the 
world  again.  There's  a  life  for  you;  what  do  you 
think  of  a  fine  lady  now  ?  ^ 

^s.  As  I  expected.  You  are  very  young,  madam, 
and,  if  you  are  not  very  careful,  your  natural  propensity 
to  noise  and  affectation  will  run  you  headlong  into 
folly,  extravagance,  and  repentance. 

Mrs.  Tat.  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 

Ms.  Drink  a  large  quantity  of  lethe  to  the  loss  of 
your  acquaintance ;  and  do  you,  Sir,  drink  another, 
to  forget  this  false  step  of  your  wife  ;  for  whilst  you 
remember  her  folly,  you  can  never  thoroughly  regard 
her;  and  whilst  you  keep  good  company,  madam,  as 
you  call  it,  and  follow  their  example,  you  can  never 
have  a  just  regard  for  your  husband  ;  so  bpth  drink 
and  be  happy. 

Mrs.  Tat.  Well,  give  it  me  whilst  I  am  in  humour,  or 
I  shall  certainly  change  my  mind  again. 


an* 
the 


Ms^  Be  patient  till  the  rest  of  the  company  drink, 
d  divert  yourself  in  the  mean  time  with  w^alkino;  h\. 


grove. 

Mrs.  Tat.  Weil,  come  along,  husband,  and  keep 
me  in  humour,  or  I  >hall  beat  you  such  an  alarum  as 
you  never  h(^.i  in  all  vnv.v  life. 


Extract 


§4  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Extract    trom    the    Eulogy    on    Dr.    Franklin, 

PRONOUNCED    BY  THE  AbBE  FaUCHET,  IN  THE  NaMH 
OF    THE    CoJtMOHS    OF    PARIS,    1790. 


A  SECOND  creation  has  taken  place;  the  ele* 
mcnts  o^  society  begin  to  ^  combine  together ; 
the  moral  universe  is  now  seen  issuing  from  chaos ; 
the  genius  of  liberty  is  awakened,  and  springs  up ; 
she  shedg  her  divine  light  and  creative  powers  upon  the 
two  hemispheres.  A  great  nation,  astonished  at  seeing 
herself  free,  stretches  her  arms  from  one  extremity  of 
the  earth  to  the  other,  and  embraces  the  first  nation 
that  became  so  :  the  foundations  of  a  new  city  are  cre- 
ated in  the  two  worlds  ;  brother  nations  hasten  to  in- 
habit it.     It  is  the  city  of  mankind ! 

One  of  the  first  founders  of  this  universal  city  was  the 
immortal  FRANKLIN,  the  deliverer  of  America. 
The  second  founders,  who  accelerated  this  great  work, 
made  it  worthy  of  Europe.  The  legislators  of  France 
have  rendered  the  most  solemn  homage  to  his  memory. 
They  have  said,  "  A  friend  of  humanity  is  dead  : 
mankind  ought  to  be  overwhelmed  with  sorrow  !^  Na- 
tions have  hitherto  only  worn  mourning  for  Kings^; 
let  us  assume  it  for  a  Man,  and  let  the  tears  of  French- 
men mingle  with  those  of  Americans,  in  order  to  do 
honor  to  the  memory  of  one  of  the  Fathers  of  Lib- 


erty y^ 

The  city  of  Paris,  which  once  contained  tlws  philos- 
opher within  its  walls,  which  was  intoxicated  with  the 
olcasurc  jof  hearing,  admiring,  and  loving  him ;  of 
Vathering  from  his  lips  the  maxims  of  a  moral  legisla- 
for,  and'  of  imbibing  from  the  effusions  of  his  heart  a 
passion  for  the  public  welfare,  rivals  Boston  and  Phila- 
delphia, his  two  native  cities  (for  in  one  he  was  born  asj 
;t  were  a  man,  and  in  the  other  a  legislator)  in  its  pro- 
:Diind  attachment  to  his  merit  end  his  glory. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  Gij 

ft  has  commanded  this  funeral  solemnity,  in  order  to 
perpetuate  the  gratitude  anti  the  grief  of  this  third 
country,  which,  by  the  courage  and  activity  with  which 
it  has  profited  of  his  lessons,  has  shown  itself  worthy  of 
having  him  at  once  for  an  instructor  and  a  model. 

In  selecting  me  for  the  interpreter  of  its  wishes,  it 
has  declared,  that  it  is  less  to  the  talents  of  an  orator, 
than  to  th$  patriotism  of  a  citizen,  the  zeal  of  a  preacher 
of  liberty,  and  the  sensibility  of  a  friend  of  men,  that 
it  hath  confided  this  solemn  function.  In  this  point  of 
view,  I  may  speak  with  firm  confidence  ;  for  I  have  the 
public  opinion,  and  the  testimony  of  my  own  con- 
science, to  second  my  wishes.  Since  nothing  else  is 
wanting  than  freedom,  and  sensibility,  for  that  species 
of  eloquence  which  this  eulogiunr requires,  I  am  satis- 
fied ;  for  I  already  possess  them. 

My  voice  shall  extend  to  France,  to  America,  to 
posterity.  I  am  now  to  do  justice  to  a  great  man,  the 
founder  of  transatlantic  freedom  ;  I  am -to  praise  him 
in  the  name  of  the  mother  city  of  French  liberty.  I 
myself  also  am  a  man  ;  I  am  a  freeman  ;  I  possess  the  ' 
suffrages  of  my  fellow-citizens  :  this  is  enough  ;  my 
discourse  shall  be  immortal.  , 

The  academies,  the  philosophical  societies,  the  learn- 
ed associations  which  have  done  themselves  honor  by  in- 
scribing the  name  of  Franklin  in  their  records,  can  best 
appreciate  the  debt  due  to  his  genius,  for  haying  ex- 
tended the  power  of  man  over  nature,  and  presented 
new  and  sublime  ideas,  in  a  style  simple  as  truth,  and 
pure  as  light. 

It  is  not  the  naturalist  and  the  philosopher  that  the 
orator  of  the  Commons  of  Paris  ought  to- describe  ;  it 
is  the  man  who  hath  accelerated  the  progress  of  social 
order  ;  it  is  the  legislator,  who  hath  prepared  the  liberty 
of  nations ! 

Franklin,  in  his  periodical  works,  which  had  prodi- 
gious circulation  on  the  continent  of  America,  laid  die 
sacred  foundations  of  social  morality.     He  was  no  less 
inimitable  in  the  developements  of  the  same  morality, 
F  2  when 


66  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

when  applied  to  the  cluties  of  friendship,  general  chaii- 
(y,  the  employment  of  one's  time,  the  happiness  at- 
tendant upon  good  works,  the  necessary  combination 
of  private  with  public. welfare,  the  propriety  and  ne- 
cessity of  industry  ^.,  and  to  that  happy  state  which  puts 
us  at  ease  with  society  and  with  ourselves.  The  prov- 
erbs of  "  Old  Henry,"  and  ^'  Poor  Richai^d,"  are  in 
the  hands  both  of  the  learned  and  the  ignorant ;  they 
contain  the  most  sublime  morality,  reduced  to  popular 
language  and  common  comprehension  ;  and  form  the 
catechism  of  happiness  for  all  mankind. 

Franklin  was  too  great  a  moralist,  and  too  well 
-acquainted  with  human  affairs,  not  to  perceive  that 
women  were  the  arbiters  of  manners.  He  strove  to 
perfect  their  empire  ;  and  accordingly  engaged  them 
to  adorn  the  sceptre  of  virtue  with  their  graces.  It  is 
in  their  power  to  excite  courage  ;  to  overthrow  vice, 
by  means  of  their  disdain  ;  to  kindle  civism,  and  to  light 
.;p  ill  every  heart  the  holy  love  of  our  country. 

His  daughter,  who  was  opulent  and  honored  with 
the  public  esteem, dielpcd  to  manufacture  and  to  make 
up  the  clothing  for  the^  army  with  her  own  hands ; 
and  spread  abroad  a  noble  emulation  among  the  female 
citizens,  who  became  eager  to  assist  those  by  means  of 
the  needle  and  the  spindle,  who  were  serving  the  state 
-^yith  their  swords  and  their  guns. 

With  the  charm  ever  attendant  upon  true  wisdom 
and  the  grace  ever  flowing  from  tme  sentiment,  this 
grave  philosopher  knew  how  to  converse  with  the  other 
>ex ;  to  inspire  them  with  a  taste  for  domestic  occupa- 
tions ;  to  hold  out  to  them  the  prize  attendant  upon 
honor  unaccompanied  by  reproach,  and  instil  the  duty 
of  cultivating  the  first  precepts  of  education,  in  order 
',0  teach  them  to  their  children ;  and  thus  to  acquit 
the  debt  due  to  nature,  and  fulfil  the  hope  of  socie- 
ty. It  must  be  acknowledged,  that,  in  his  own  coun- 
•  ry,  he  addressed  himself  to  minds  capable  of  compre- 
■lending  him. 

Immortal 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  C7 

Immortal  females  of  America !  1  will  tell  it  to  the 
daughters  of  France,  and  they  only  are  fit  to  applaud 
you !  You  have  attained  the  utmost  of  what  your  sex 
is  capable  ;  you  possess  the  beauty,  the  simplicity,  the 
manners,  at  once  natural  and  pure ;  the  primitive 
graces  of  the  golden  age.  It  was  among  you  that  liber- 
ty was  first  to  have  its  origin.  But  the  empire  of  free- 
dom, wliich  is  extended  to  France,  is  about  to  carry 
your  manners  along  w^ith  it,  and  produce  a  revolution 
in  morals  as  well  as  in  politics. 

Already  our  female  citizens,  (for  they  have  lately 
become  such)  are  not  any  longer  occupied  with  those 
fi:ivolous  ornaments,  and  vain  pleasures,  which  were 
nothing  more  than  the  amusements  of  slavery ;  they 
have  awakened  the  love  of  liberty  in  the  bosoms  of 
fathers,  of  brothers,  and  of  husbands;  they  have  en- 
couraged them  to  make  the  most  generous  sacrifices ; 
their  delicate  hands  have  removed  the  earth,  dragged 
it  along,  and  helped  to  elevate  the  immense  amphithe- 
atre of  the  grand  confederation.  It  is  no  longer  the 
love  of  voluptuous  softness  that  attracts  their  regard ; 
it  is  the  sacred  fire  of  patriotism. 

The  laws  which  are  to  reform  education,  and  with 
it  the  national  manners,,  are  already  prepared;"  they 
will  advance,  they  will  fortify  the  cause  of  liberty  by 
means  of  their  happy  influence,  and  become  the  second 
saviours  of  their  country ! 

Franklin  did  not  omit  any  of  the  means  of  being  use- 
ful to-meuy  or  serviceable  to  society.  He  spoke  to  all 
conditioits,  to  both  sexes,  to  evefy  age.  This  amiable 
moralist  descended,  in  his  writings,  to  the  most  artless 
details  ;  tq  the  most  ingenuous  familiarities ;  to  the  first 
ideas  of  a  rural,  a  commercial,  and  a  civil  life ;  to  the 
dialogues  of  old  men  and  children  ;  full  at  once  of  all 
the  verdure  and  all  the  maturity  of  wisdom.  In  short, 
the  prudent  lessons  arising  from  the  exposition  of  those 
obscure,  happy,  easy  virtues,  which  form  so  many  links 
in  the  chain  of  a  good  man's  life,  derived  immense 
weight  from  that  reputation  for  genius  which  he  had 

acquire^!. 


ea  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

acquired,  by  being  one  of  the  first  naturalists  and 
greatest  philosophers  in  the  universe. 

At  one  and  the  same  time,  he  governed  nature  in  the 
heavens  and  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Amidst  the  tem- 
pests of  the  atmosphere,  he  directed  the  thunder; 
amidst  the  storms  of  society,  he-.-directed  the  passions. 
Think,  gendemen,  v/ith  what  attentive  docility,  with 
what  religious  respect,  one  must  hear  the  voice  of  a 
simple  man,  who  preached  up  human  happiness,  when 
it  was  recollected  that  it  was  the  powerful  voice  of  the 
same  man  who  regulated  the  lightning. 

He  electrified  the  consciences,  in  order  to  extract  the 
destructive  fire  of  vice,  exactly  in  the  same  manner  as 
he  electrified  the  heavens,  in  order  peaceably  to  invite 
from  them  the  terrible  fire  of  the  elements. 

Venerable  old  man  !  august  philosopher !  legislator 
of  the  felicity  of  thy  country,  prophet  of  the  fraternity 
of  the  human  race,  what  ecstatic  happiness  embellish- 
ed the  end  of  thy  career!  From  thy  fortunate  asylum, 
and  in  the  midst  of  thy  brothers  who  enjoyed  in  tran- 
quillity the  fruit  of  thy  virtues,  and  the  success  of  thy 
genius,  thou  hast  sung  songs  of  deliverance.  The  last 
looks,  which  thou  didst  cast  around  thee,  beheld  Ame- 
rica happy  ♦,  France,  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean, 
free,  and  a  sure  indication  of  the  approaching  freedom 
and  happiness  of  the  world. 

The  United  States,  looking  upon  themselves  as  thy 
children,  have  bewailed  the  death  of  the  father  of  their 
republic.  France,  thy  family  by  adoption,  has  hon- 
ored thee  as  the  founder  of  her  laws ;  and  the  human 
race  has  revered  thee  as  the  universal  patriarch  who 
has  formed  the  alliance  of  nature  with  society.  Thy 
remembrance  belongs  to  all  ages ;  thy  metoory  to  all 
nations  5  thy  glory  to  eternity !    . 


Epilogue 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  6^ 


Epilogue  to  Abdison's  Cato. 


YOU  see  mankind  the  same  in  every  age  \ 
Heroic  fortitude,  tyrannic  rage, 

Boundless  ambition,  patriotic  truth, 

And  hoary  treason,  and  untainted  youth, 

Have  deeply  markM  all  periods  and  all  climes, 

The  noblest  virtues,  and  the  blackest  crimes.   ■ 

Did  Cesar,  drunk  with  power,  and  madly  brave-,     . 

Insatiate  burn,  his  country  to  enslave  ? 

Did  he  for  this,  lead  forth  a  servile  host 

To  spill  the  choicest  blood  that  Rome  could  boast  ? 

The  British  Cesar  too  hath  done  the  same, 

And  doom'd  this  age  to  everlasting  fame. 

Columbia's  crimson'd  fields  still  smoke  with  gore  ;' 

Her  bravest  heroes  cover  all  the  shore  : 
*The  flower  of  Britain,  in  full  martial  bloom, 

In  this  sad  war,  sent  headlong  to  the  tomb. 

Did  Rome's  brave  senate  nobly  dare  t'  oppose 

The  mighty  torrent,  stand  confess'd  their  foes, 

And  boldly  arm  the  virtuous  fev;'^  and  dare 

The  desp'rate  hoiTors  of  unequal  war  ? 

Our  senate  too  the  same  bold  deed  have  done, 
,  And  for  a  Cato,  arm'd  a  Washington  ; 

A  chief,  in  all  the -ways  of  battle  skilPd, 

Great  in  the  council,  mighty  in  the  field. 

His  martial  ann,  and  steady  soul  alone,  ^ 

Have  made  thy  legions  shake,  thy  navy  groan,  >     . 

And  thy  proud  empire  totter  to  the  throne.        )  . 

O,  what  thou  art,  mayst  thou  forever  be, 

And  death  the  lot  of  any  chief  but  thee  ! 

We've  had  our  Decius  too ;  and  Howe  could  say, 

Health,  pardon,  peace,  George  sends  America  ; 

Yet  brought  destruction  for  the  olive  wreath  ; 

For  health,  contagion,  and  for  pardon,  death. 

Rise  !  then,  my  countr}Tnen,  for  fight  prepare  ; 

Gird  on  your  swords,  and  fearless  rush  to  war : 

'Tis 


70  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR; 

'Tis  your  bold  task  the  gen'rous  strife  to  try ; 
For  your  griev'd  country  nobly  dare  to  die ! 
No  pent  up  Utica  contracts  your  powers  ; 
For  the  whole  beundless  continent  is  our's  f 


Self-Conceit. 
An  Address,  spoken  ey  a  very- small  Boy. 


WHEN  boys  are  exhibiting  in  public,  the  polite- 
ness or  curiosity  of  the  hearers  frequently  in- 
duces them  to  inquire  the  names  of  the  performers. 
To  save  the  trouble  of  answers,  so  far  as  relates  to  my- 
self, my  name  is  Charles  Chatterbox.  I  was  born  in 
this  town ;  and  have  grown  to  my  present  enormous 
stature,  without  any  artificial  help.  It  is  true,  I  eat, 
drink,  and  sleep,  and  take  as  much  care  of  my  noble 
self,  as  any  young  man  about ;  but  I  am  a  monstrous 
great  student.  -  There  is  no  telling  the  half  of  what  I 
have  read. 

Why,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Arabian  Tales  ? 
Truth  I  every  word  truth !  There's  the  story  of  the 
lamp,  and  of  Rcok's  eggs  as  big  as  a  meeting-house. 
And  there  is  the  history  of  Sindbad  the  Sailor.  I  have 
read  every  word  of  them.  And  I  have  read  Tom 
Thumb's  folio  through.  Winter  Evening  Tales,  and 
Seven  Champions,  andParismus,  and  Parismenus,  and 
Valentine  and  Orson,  and  Mother  Bunch,  and  Seven 
Wise  Masters,  and  a  curious  book,  entitled,  Think  well 
©n't. 

Then  there  is  another  wonderful  book,  containing 
fifty  reasons  why  ar.  old  bachelor  was  not  mamed. 
The  first  was,  that  nobody  would  have  him ;  and  the 
second  was,  he  declared  to-  every  body,  that  he  would 
not  marry  ;  and  so  it  went  on  stronger  and  stronger. 
Then,  at  the  close  of  the  book,  it  gives  an  account  of 
his  marvellous  death  and  burial.  And  in  the  appen- 
dix, it  tells  about  his  being  ground  over,  and  coming 

out 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  71 

out  as  young,  and  as  fresh,  and  as  fair  as  ever.     Then, 
every  few  pages,  is  a  picture  of  him  to  the  life. 

I  have  also  read  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  Reynard  the 
fox,  and  Moll  Flanders ;  and  I  have  read  twelve  de- 
lightful novels,  and  Irish  Rogues,  and  Life  of  Saint 
Patrick,  and  Philip  Quarle,  and  Conjuror  Crop,  and 
^sop's  Fables,  and  Laugh  and  be  fat,  and  Toby  Lump- 
kin's Elegy  on  the  Birth  of  a  Child,  and  a  Comedy  on 
the  Death  of  his  Brother,  and  an  Acrostic,  occasioned 
by  a  mortal  sickness  of  his  dear  wife,  of  which  she  re- 
covered. This  famous  author  wrote  a  treatise  on  the 
Rise  and  Progress  of  Vegetation  ;  and  a  whole  Body  of 
Divinity  he  comprised  in  four  lines. 

I  have  read  all  the  works  of  Pero  Gilpin,  whose 
memory  was  so  extraordinary,  that  he  never  forgot 
tiie  hours  of  eating  and  sleeping.  This  Pero  was  a 
rare  lad.  Why,  he  could  stand  on  his  head,  as  if  it 
were  a  real  pedestal ;  his  feet  he  used  for  drumsticks. 
He  was  trumpeter  to  the  foot  guards  in  Queen  Betty's 
time ;  and  if  he  had  not  blown  his  breatk  away,  might 
have  lived  to  this  day. 

Then,  I  have  read  the  history  of  a  man  who  married 
for  money,  and  of  a  woman  that  would  wear  her  hus- 
imnd's  small-clothes  in  spite  of  him ;  and  I  have  read 
four  books  of  riddles  and  rebusses ;  and  all  that  is  not 
half  a  quarter. 

Now,  what  signifies  reading  so  much  if  one  can't  tell 
of  it?  In  thinking  over  these  things,  I  ana  sometimes 
so  lost  in  company,  that  I  don't  hear  any  thing  that  is 
said,  till  some  one  pops  out  that  witty  saying,  "  A 
penny  for  your  thoughts."  Then  1  say,  to  be  sure, 
I  was  thinking  of  a  book  I  had  been  reading.  Once, 
in  this  mood,  I  came  very  near  swallowing  my  cup  and 
saucer;  and  another  time,  was  upon  the  very  point  of 
taking  down  a  punch-bowl,  that  held  a  gallon.  Now',  if 
I  could  fairly  have  gotten  them  down,  they  would  not 
have  hurt  me  a  jot;  for  my  mind  is  capacious  enough 
for  a  china  shop.  There  is  no  choaking  a  man  of  my 
reading.     Why,  if  my  mind  can  contain  Genii  and 

Giants. 


72  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Giants,  sixty  feet  high,  and  enchanted  castles,  wky 
not  a  punch-bowl,  and  a  whole  tea-board  ? 

It  was  always  conjectured  that  I  should  be  a  mon- 
*strous  great  man  ;  and  I  believe,  as  much  as  I  do  the 
Spanish  war,  that  i  shall  be  a  perfect  Brobdingnag  in 
hme. 

•  Well  now,  do  you  see,  when  I  have  read  a  book,  I  go 
right  off  into  the  company  of  the  ladies ;  for  they  are 
fhe  judges  whether  a  man  knows  any  thing  or  not. 
Then  I  bring  on  a  subject  which  will  show  my  parts  to 
the  best  advantage;  and  I  always  mind  and  sov  a 
j^mart  thing  just  before  I  quit. 

You  must  know,  moreover,  that  I  have  learned  a 
gi'eat  deal  of  wit.  I  was  the  first  man  who  invented 
all  that  peo})le  say  about  cold  tongues,  and  warm 
tongues,  and  may-bees.  I  invented  the  wit  of  kissiug 
the  candlestick  when  a  lady  holds  it ;  as  also  ib^  plays 
of  criminal  and  cross  question  ;  and  above  all,  I  invent- 
ed the  wit  of  paying  toll  at  bridges.  In  short,  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  take  me  all  in  all;  I  am  a  downright 
curious  fellow. 


Howard  and  Lester. 
A  Dialogue  on  Learning  and  Usefulness, 


TT  7  X  IFE  is  much  like  a  fiddle:  every  man 
J_ii  plays  such  a  tune  as  suits  him. 

Lester,  The  more  like  a  fiddle,  the  better  I  like  it. 
Any  thing  that  makes  a  merry  noise  suits  me  ;  and  the 
man  that  does  not  set  his  hours  to  music,  has  a  dull 
rime  on't. 

How*  But,  Lester,  are  there  no  serious  duties  in 
life  ?  Ought  we  not  to  improve  our  minds,  and  to  pre- 
pare for  usefulness  ? 

Lest,  Why,  in  the  present  da^,  a  man^s  preparing 
himself  for  usefulness,  is  like  carrying  coals  to  New- 
castle.    Our  C€untry  is  full  of  useful   men ;,  ten,  at 


I  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  73 

l/eaist,  to  where  one  is  wanted,  and  all  of  them  ten 
jtimes  as  ready  to  serve  the  public,  as  the  public  is  to 
'be  served.  If  every  man  should  go  to  Congress  that's 
!lit  f®r  it,  the  federal  city  would  hardly  hold  them. 
!  Hcw.  You  mean,  ii  all  who  think  themselves  fit 
'for  it. 

'Lest,  No ;  I  meant  as  I  said. 
j     How.  Then  what  do  you  think  fits  a  man  for  Con- 
gress ? 

Lest,  Why  he  must  be  f.^ppant  and  bold. 

How,  Wiiat  g0od  will  that  do  him,  if  he  is  without 
[knowledge  ? 

Lest.  O  !  he  must  have  knowledge  to  be  sure. 

How.  Well,  must  he  not  be  a  man  in  whom  the 
people  can  trust  ?  Must  he  not  understand  politics  ? 
and  must  he  not  be  able  and  willing  to  serve  his  coun- 
try? 

Lest,  I  agree  to  all  that. 

How,  Then  you  suppose  that  the  federal  city  could 
hardly  hold  all  our  men  who  unite  eloquence  with 
confidence,  knowledge  with  integrity,  and  policy  with 
patriotism.  I  fear  that  a  countmg-house  would  give 
them  full  accommodation. 

Lest.  I  don't  go  so  deep  into  these  matters  :  but 
this  is  certain,  that  when  the  election  comes,  more  than 
enough  are  willing  to  go* 

How.  That,  my  friend,  only  proves  that  more  thai) 
enough  are  ignorant  of  themselves  :  but  are  tliere  no 
other  ways  of  serving  the  public  ? 

Lest.  Yes  ;  one  may  preach,  if  he  will  do  it  for  little 
or  nothing.  He  may  practise  law,  if  he  can  get  any 
body  to  employ  him ;  or  he  may  be  a  Doctor  or  an 
Instructor  ;  but  I  tell  you  the  country  is  crowded  with 
learned  men  begging  business. 

How.  Then  you  intend  to  prepare  yourself  for  the 
ignorant  herd,  so  that  you  may  not  be  crowded. 

Lest,  I  have  serious  thoughts  of  it.  You  may  take 
your  own  way,  but  I'll  never  wear  out  a  fine  pair  of 
eyes  in  preparing  myself  for  usefulness,  till  this  same 

G  publx« 


74  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

public  will  give  me  a  bond  to  employ  me  when  I  am 
ready  to  serve  them.  Till  such  a  bond  is  signed,  scal- 
ed, and  delivered,  I  shall  set  my  hours  to  the  tune  ot 
**  Jack's  alive."  To-day's  the  ship  I  sail  in,  and  that 
will  carry  the  flag,  in  spite  of  the  combined  powers  of 
yesterdays  and  to-morrows.' 

How,  Well,  Lester,  you  can  take  your  choice.  I 
shall  set  my  hours  to  a  more  serious  tune.  I  ask  no 
bond  of  the  public.  If  my  mind  is  well  furnished  with 
knowledge,  and  that  same  generous  public,  which  has 
so  uniformly  called  to  her  service  the  discerning,  should 
refusemy  services, still  I  shall  possess  a  treasure,  which, 
after  a  few  years  of  dissipation,  you  would  give  the 
world  to  purchase,  THE  RECOLLECTION  OF 
TIME  WELL  SPENT. 


Christ's  Crucifixion. 


IVrOW  darkness  fell 

■^^    On  all  the  region  round ;  the  shrouded  sun   ! 
From  the  impen' tent  earth  withdrew  his  light : 
I  thirst,  the  Saviour  cry'd ;  and  lifting  up 
His  eyes  in  agony,  My  God,  my  God  !• 
Ah  !  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?   exclaim'd. 

Yet  deem  him  not  forsaken  of  his  God ! 
Beware  that  error.     'Twas  the  mortal  part 
Of  his  compounded  nature,  breathing  forth 
Its  last  sad  agony,  that  so  complain'd : 
Doubt  not  that  vail  of  sorrow  was  withdrawn, 
And  heav'nly  comfort  to  his  soul  vouchsaPd, 
Ere  thus'he  cry'd.  Father !  into  thy  hands 
My  spirit  I  commend.     Then  bow'd  his  head 
And  died.     Now  Gabriel  and  his  heavenly  choir 
Of  minist'ring  angels  hov'ring  o'er  the  cross 
Receiv'd  his  spirit,  at  length  from  mortal  pangs 
yVnd  fleshly  pris'n  set  free,  and  bore  it  thence 
Upon  their  wings  rejoicing.     Then  bekold 

A  prodi^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.       .      75. 

A  prodigy,  that  to  tlic  world  announc'd 
A  new  religion  and  dissolv'd  the  old  : 
The  temple's  sacred  vail  was  rent  in  twain 
From  top  to  bottom,  'midst  th'  attestini^  shocks 
Of  earthquake  and  the  rending  up  of  graves. 
Now  those  mysterious  symbols,  heretofore 
Gurtain'd  from  vulgar  eyes,  and  holiest  decm'u 
Of  holies,  were  display'd  to  public  vievv' ; 
The  mercy-seat,  with  its  cherubic  wings 
O'ershadoAved,  and  the  golden  ark  beneath 
Cov'ring  the  testimony,  now  through  the  rent 
Of  that  dissever'd  vail  first  saw  the  light ; 
A  world  redeem'd  had  now  no  farther  need 
Of  types  and  emblems,  dimly  shadowing  forth 
An  angry  Deity  withdrawn  from  sight 
And  canopied  in  clouds.     Him,  face  to  face, 
Now  in  full  light  reveal'd,  the  dying  breath 
Of  his  dear  Son  appeas'd,  and  purchas'd  peace 
And  reconcilement  for  offending  man. 

Thus  the  partition  wall,  by  Moses  built, 
By  Christ  was  levell'd,  and  the  Gentile  world 
Enter'd  the  breach,  by  their  great  Captain  led 
Up  to  the  throne  of  grace,  opening  himself 
Through  his  own  flesh  a  new  and  living  way. 
Then  were  the  oracles  of  God  made  known 
To  all  the  nations,  sprinkled  by  the  blood 
Of  Jesus,  and  baptiz'd  into  his  death  ; 
So  was  the  birthright  of  th^  elder  born, 
Heirs  of  the  promise,  forfeited  ;  whilst  they, 
Whom  sin  had  erst  in  bondage  held,  made  free 
iProm  sin,  and  servants  of  the  living  God, 
Now  gain'd  the  gift  of  God,  eternal  life. 

Soon  as  those  sips  and  prodigies  were  seen 
Of  those  who  watch'd  the  cross,  conviction  smote 
rheir  fear-struck  hearts.     The  sun,  at  noon-day  dark  : 
Ihe  earth  convulsive  underneath  their  feet, 
\nd  the  firm  rocks,  in  shiver'd  fragments  rent, 
tous'd  them  at  once  to  tremble  and  believe. 
Then  was  our  Lord  by  heathen  lips  confess'd, 

When.. 


i 


I 


:S  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

When  the  centurion  cry'd,  In  very  truth 

This  righteous  Person  was  the  Son  of  God  ; 

The  rest,  in  heart  assenting,  stood  abash'd,  .| 

Watching  in  silence  the  tremendous  scene. 

The  recollection  of  his  gracious  acts. 
His  dying  pray'rs  and  their  own  impious  taunts 
Now  rose  in  sad  review  ;  too  late  iLey  wish'd 
The  deed  undone,  and  sighing  smote  their  breasts. 
Straight  from  God's  presence  went  that  angel  forth, 
Whose  trumpet  shall  call  up  the  sleeping  dead  * 

At  the  last  day,  and  bade  the  saints  arise  | 

And  come  on  earth  to  hail  this  promis'd  hour, 
The  day-spring  of  salvation.     Forth  they  came 
From  their  dark  tenements,  their  shadowy  forms 
Made  visible  as  in  their  fleshly  state, 
And  through  the  holy  city  here  and  there 
Frequent  they  gleam'd,  by  night,  by  day,  with-  fear 
And  wonder  seen  of  many  :  holy  seers, 
Prophets  and  martyrs  from  the  grave  set  free, 
And  the  first  fruits  of  the  redeemed  dead. 

They,  who  with  Christ  transhgur'd  on  the  mount 
Were  seen  of  his  disciples  in  a  cloud 
Of  dazzling  glory,  now,  in  form  distinct, 
Mingling  amidst  the  public  haunts  of  men, 
Struck  terror  to  all  hearts  :  Ezekiel  there, 
The  captive  seer,  to  whom  on  Chebar's  bankb 
The  heaven's  were  open'd  and  the  fatal  roil 
Held  forth,  with  dire  denunciations  fiU'd, 
Of  lamentation,  mourning  and  of  woe, 
Now  falling  fast  on  Israel's  wretched  race  : 
He  too  was  there,  Hilkiah's  holy  son, 
With  loins  close  girt,  and  glowing  lips  of  fire 
By  God's  own  finger  touch'd  :  there  might  be  seeii 
The  youthful  prophet,  Belteshazzar  nam'd 
Of  the  Chaldees,  interpreter  of  dreams, 
Knowledge  of  God  bestow'd,  in  visions  skill'd, 
And  fair,  and  iearn'd,  and  wise  :  the  Baptist  here, 
Girt  in  his  hairy  mantle,  frowning  stalk'd. 
And  pointing  to  his  ghastly  wound,  exclaiin'd,. 

Yc 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  77 

Yc  vipers  !  whom  my  warning  could  not  move 

Timely  to  flee  from  the  impending  wrath 

Now  fallen  on  your  head  ;  whom  I  indeed 

With  water,  Christ  hath  now  with  fire  baptiz'd  :  ' 

Barren  ye  were  of  fruits,  which  I  prescrib'd 

Meet  for  repentance,  and  behold  !  the  axe 

Is  laid  to  the  unprofitable  root 

Of  every  sapless  tree,  hewn  down,  condemn'd 

And  cast  into  the  fire.     Lo !  these  are  they, 

These  shadowy  forms  now  floating  in  your  sight, 

These  are  the  harbingers  of  ancient  days, 

Who  witnessed  the  Messias,  and  announc'd 

His  coming  upon  earth.     Mark  with  what  scorn 

Silent  they  pass  you  by :  them  had  ye  heard, 

Them  had  ye  noted  with  a  patient  mind, 

Ye  had  not  crucified  the  Lord  of  Life  : 

He  of  these  stones  to  Abraham  shall  raise  up 

Children,  than  you  more  worthy  of  his  stock  ; 

And  now  his  winnowing  fan  is  in  his  hand. 

With  which  he-ll  purge  his  floor,  and  having  stor'd 

The  precious  grain  in  garners,  will  consume 

With  fire  unquenchable  the  refuse  chaflf.. 


The  Woxders  of  Nature. 


HOW  mighty  !  how  majestic !  and  how  mysteri- 
ous are  nature's  works !  When  the  air  is  calm, 
where  sleep  the  stormy  winds  ?  In  vs^hat  chambers  are 
they  reposed,  or  in  what  dungeons  confined  ?  But 
when  He,  "  who  holds  them  in  his  fist,"  is  pleased 
to  awaken  their  rage,  and  throw  open  their  prison 
doors,  then,  with  irresistible  impetuosity,  they,  rush 
forth,  scattering  dread,  and  menacing  destruction. 

The  atmosphere  is  liurled  into  the  most  tumultuous 
confusion.  The  aerial  torrent  bursts  its  way  over  moun- 
tains, seas,  and  continents.  All  things  fcol  the  dread- 
ful shock.  All  things  tremble  before  the.  furious  blast. 
The  forest,  vexed  and  torn,  groans  undcrlhe  scourge. 
G  2  Hex. 


78  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Her  sturdy  sons  are  strained  to  the  very  root,  and  af- 
most  sweep  the  soil  they  were  wont  to  shade.  The 
stubborn  oak,  that  disdains  to  bend,  is  dashed  head- 
long to  the  ground  ;  and,  with  shattered  arms,  with 
prostrate  trunk,  blocks  up  the  road.  While  the  flexile 
reed,  that  springs  up  in  the  marsh,  yielding  to  the  gust, 
(as  the  nieek  and  pliant  temper,  to  injuries,  or  the  re- 
signed and  patient  spirit,  to  misfortunes)  eludes  the 
force  of  the  storm,  and  survives  amidst  the  wide-spread 
havoc. 

For  a  moment,  the  turbulent  and  outrageous  sky 
seems  to  be  assuaged  ;  but  it  intermits  its  warmth,  only 
to  increase  its  strength.  Soon  the  sounding  squadrons 
of  the  air  return  to  the  attack,  and  renew  their  ravages 
with  redoubled  fury.  The  stately  dome  rocks  amidsl 
the  wheeling  clouds.  The  impregnable  tower  totteiJ' 
on  its  basis,  and  threatens  to  overvrhelm  v/hom  it  wgs 
intended  to  protect.  The  ragged  rocks  are  rent  ii. 
pieces  ;  and  even  the  hills,  the  perpetual  hills,  on  their 
deep  foundations  are  scarcely  secure.  Where  now  is 
the  place  of  safety  ?  when  the  city  reels,,  and  houses 
become  heaps !  Sleep  affrighted  flies.  Diversion  is 
turned  into  horror.  Ail  is  uproar  in  the  elements  ;  all 
is  consternation  among  mortals  ;  and  nothing  but  one 
wide  scene  of  rueful  devastation  through  the  land. 

The  ocean  swells,  with  tremendous  commotions.  The 
ponderous  weaves  are  heaved  frdtn  their  capacious  bed, 
and  almost  lay  bare  the  unfathomable  deep.  Flung  in^ 
to  the  most  rapid  agitation,  they  sweep  over  the  rocks  ; 
they  lash  the  lofty  cliffs,  and  toss  themselves  into  the 
clouds.  Navies  are  rent  from  their  anchors  ;  and,  with 
all  their  enormous  load,  are  whirled  swift  as  the  arrow, 
wild  as  the  winds,  along  the  vast  abyss.  Now  they 
climb  the  rolling  mountain ;  they  plough  the  frightful 
ridge  ;  and  seem  to  skim  the  skies.  Anon  they  plunge 
into  the  opening  gulf;  they  lose  the  sight  of  day  ;  and 
'ire  lost  themselves  to  every  eye. 

How  vahi  is  the  pilot's  art;  how  impotent  the  mart- 
vcr^s  strength !  **  They  nrcl  tq  and  fro,  and  staggei 

lik^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  7^ 

like  a  drunken  man.'*  Despair  is  in  every  face,  and 
death  sits  threatening  on  every  surge.  But  when  Om- 
nipotence pleases  to  command,  the  storm  is  hushed  to 
silence  ;  the  lightnings  lay  aside  their  fiery  bolts,  and 
tke  billows  cease  to  roiU 


m^ 


Dialogue  on  Physiognomy. 


Enter  Frank  ayid  Henry. 
Fra  k  T^  appears  strange  to  me  that  people  can  be 
'^  '  -I  so  imposed  upon.  There  is  no  difficulty  in 
piidging  folks  by  their  looks.  I  profess  to  know  as 
jmuch  of  a  man,  at  the  first  view,  as  by  half  a  dozen 
years  acquaintance. 

Henry,  Pray  hov/  is  that  done  ?  I  should  wish  io 
learn  such  an  art. 

Ft.  Did  you  never  read  Lavater  on  Physiognomy  ? 

Hen,  No.    What  do  you  mean  by  such  a  hard  word  ? 

jPr.  Pliysiognomy  means  a  knowledge  of  men's 
hearts,  thoughts,  and  characters,  by  their  looks.  For 
instance,  if  you  see  a  man,  with  a  forehead  jutting  over 
his  eyes  like  a  piazza,  with  a  pair  of  eyebrows,  heavy 
like  the  cornice  of  a  house  ;  with  full'  eyes,  and  a  Ro- 
man nose,  depend  on  it  he  is  a  great  scholar,  and  an 
honest  man. 

Htn,  It  seems  to  me  I  should  rather  go  below  his 
nose  to  discover  his  scholarship. 

Fr,  By  no  means  :  if  you  look  for  beauty,  you  may 
descend  to  the  mouth  and  chin  ;  otherwise  never  go 
below  the  region  of  the  brain. 

;  Enter  Georgs. 

Geor.  Well,  I  have  been  to  see  the  man  hanged. 
And  he  is  gone  to  the  other  world,  with  just  such  a 
great  forehead  and  Roman  nose,  as  you  have  always 
een  praising. 

Fr,  Remember,  George,  ail.  signs  fail  in  dry 
weather, 

€r«wr.  Now,  be  hone^,  Frank,  and  own  that  there 

is 


dO  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  I 

is  nothing  in  all  this  trumpery  of  yours.    The  only  way^ 
to  know  men  is  by  their  actions.     If  a  man  commit 
burglary,  think  you  a  Roman  nose  ought  to  save  him 
from  punishment  ? 

Fr.  I  don't  carry  my  notions  so  far  as  that;  but! 
it  is  certain  that  all  faces  in  the  world  are  different  ;j 
and  equally  true,  that  each  has  some  marks  about  it,^ 
by  which  one  can  discover  the  temper  and  character 
of  the  person.. 

Enter  Peter.  J 

Peter,  [to  Frank,']  Sir,  I  have  heard  of  your  fame^ 
from  Dan  to  Beersheba  ;  that  you  can  know  a  man  by 
his  face,  and  can  tell  his  thoughts  by  his  looks.  Hear- 
ing this,  I  have  visited  you  without  the  ceremony  of  an 
introduction. 

Fr,  Why,  indeed,  I  do  profess  something  in  that 
way. 

Pet,  By  that  foreheadj  nose,  and  those  eyes  oi 
yours,  one  might  be  sure  of  an  acute,  penetrating 
mind. 

Fr,  I  see  thdit  you  are  not  ignorant  of  physiog 
nomy. 

Pet,  I  am  not ;  but  still  I  am  so  far  from  being  an 
adept  in  the  art,  that,  unless  the  features  are  very  re- 
markable, I  cannot  determine  with  certainty.^  But 
yours  is  the  most  striking  face  I  ever  saw.  There  is  a 
certain  firmness  in  the  lines,  which  lead  from  the  outei 
verge  to  the  centre  of  the  apple  of  your  eye,  which 
denotes  great  forecast,  deep  thought,  bright  invention, 
and  a  genius  for  great  purposes. 

Fru  You  are  a  perfect  master  of  the  art.  And  to' 
show  you  that  I  ksow  something  of  it,  permit  me  to 
observe,  that  the  form  of  your  face  denotes  frankhess, 
truth,  and  honesty.  Your  heart  is  a  stranger  to  guiley 
your  lips,  to  deceit,  and  your  hands,  to  fraud. 

Pet,  I  must  confess  that  you  have  hit  upon  my  true 
character;  though  a  different  one,  from  what  1  have 
sustained  in  the  view  of  the  world. 

Fr: 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  81 

Fr,  [/o  Henry  and  George^  Now  see  two  strong 
examples  of  the  tmdi  of  physiognomy.  \^lVhih.  he  is 
speaking  tMi,Peicr  takes  out  his  pocket-hook^  and  makes 
off  zvith  himself, ]  Now,  can  }  ou  conceive,  that  with- 
out this  knowledge,  I  could  fathom  the  character  of  a 
total  stranger  ? 

Heri,  Pray  tell  us  by  what  jnarks  you  discovered 
that  in  his  heart  and  lips  was  no  guile,  and  in  his 
hands,  no  fraud  ? 

Fr,  Aye,  leave  that  to  me;  we  arc  not  to  reveal 
eur  secrets.  But  I  will  show  you  a  flice  and  character, 
which  exactly  suits  him.  IFcelsfor  his  pocket-book  in 
hoik  'pockets,  looks  zoildly  and  concerned.^ 

Geor^    [Tauntingly,}     -^Y^^    *'  i"    ^'^^    heart  is  no 

fuile,  in  his  lips  no  deceit,  and  in  his  hands  no  fraud ! 
fow  we  see  a  strong  example  of  the  power  of  physi- 
ognomy !" 

Fr,  He  is  a  wretch !  a  traitor  against  every  good 
sign!  I'll  pursue  him  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  [Of- 
fers to  go,] 

Hen,  Stop  a  moment.  His  fine  honest  face  is  far 
enough  before  this  time.  You  have  not  yet  discover- 
ed the  worst  injury  he  has  done  you. 

Fr,  What's  that  ?  I  had  no  watch  or  money  for 
him  to  steal. 

Hen,  By  his  deceitful  lips,  he  has  robbed  you  of 
any  just  conception  of  yourself;  he  has  betrayed  you 
into  a  foolish  belief  that  you  are  possessed  of  most  ex- 
traordinary genius  and  talent??.  Whereas^  separate 
from  the  idle  whim  about  physiognomy,  you  have  had 
no  more  pretence  to  genius  or  learning  than  a  common 
school-boy.  Learn  iienceforth  to  estimate  men's  hands 
by  their  deeds,  their  lips,  by  their  words,  and  their 
hearts,  by  their  lives. 

Or  A  Tin'.; 


82  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Oration    delivered    at    Paris    by    CiJizen    Car- 

NOT,  President   of   the  Executive  Directory, 

i      AT  the    Festival    of  Gratitude  and  Victory, 

'      celebrated  *at    the    Champ-de-Maks,  May   29, 

1796. 

IT  is  at  the  moment  when  nature  is  renovated,  when 
the  earth,  adorned  with  flowers  and  dressed  in  green, 
promises  new  harvests ;  when  all  beini^s  proclaim  in 
their  own  language,  the  beneficent  Intelligence  which 
renovates  the  universe,  that  the  French  people  assem- 
ble, on  this  great  festival,  to  render  a  distinguished  hom- 
age to  those  talents  and  virtues  of  the  friends  of  the 
country  and  humanity.  What  day  can  better  unite 
all  hearts  !  iVhat  citizen,  what  man  can  be  a  stranger 
to  the  influence  of  gratitude !  We  exist  only  through  an 
uninterrupted  course  of  beneficence,  and  our  life  is  but 
a  continual  exchange  of  services. 

As  soon  as  born,  our  eyes,  fixed  on  the  heavens, 
appear  already  to  acknowledge  a  primary  Benefactor; 
Weak,  without  support,  the  love  of  our  parents  watches 
over  our  infancy,  and  provides  for  wyants  continually 
renewed.     They  direct  our  first  steps ;  their  patient  / 
solicitude  assists  in  developing  our  organs  ;  we  receive  » 
from  them  our  first  ideas  of  what  we  are  ourselves,  and  I 
of  surrounding  objects.     Additional  care  models  our  ' 
hearts  to  aflection,  our  minds  to  knowledge,  and  our', 
bodies  to  useful  labor.     It  is  for  our  happiness,  that; 
the  wise  have  reflected  on  the  duties  of  man  ;  that  the  i'! 
learned  have  diven  into  the  secrets  of  nature  ;  that  the  ^ 
magistrate  watches,  and  that  the  legislator  prepares  in  ^ 
deliberation  protecting  laws.  ^ 

Soon  we  are  enabled  to  be  useful.     Good  children,  ' 
we  strew  flowers  over  the  age  of  our  parents,  and  their  •.. 
trembling  voice  blesses  us  in  their  last  moments.     Be-  f. 
come  parents  in  our  turn,  we  prepare,  in  the  education  i 
©f  our  children,  the  felicity  of  our  declining  years  ;  4 

and   I 


i 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  ^         83 

and  wc  thus  continue  in  a  new  generation  the  chain  of 
benevolence  and  gratitude.  Sensibility  is  not  restricted 
within  the  family  circle  ;  the  indigent  is  searched  for 
under  the  thatch ;  succours  and  consolation  are  lavish- 
ed ;  and  the  donor,  at  first  paid  for  the  good  action  by 
the  pleasure  of  having  performed  it,  is  doubly  rewarded 
by  the  gmtitude  of  the  object.  Benevolence!  how 
happy  are  thy  votaries,  and  how  much  to  be  pitied,  the 
soul  that  knows  thee  not ! 

He  who  is  a  good  son  and  a  good  father  is  also  a 
good  citizen.  He  loves  his  country ;  renders  with 
alacrity  the  tribute  of  services  ;  he  delights  in  return- 
ing to  his  brothers  the  protection  he  has  received  from 
them.  Either  magistrate  or  warrior,  manufacturer  or 
farmer ;  in  the  temple  of  the  arts ;  in  the  Senate  ;  in  the 
fields  of  glory,  or  the  workshops  of  industry,  he  shows 
himself  ambitious  of  c  ontributing  towards  the  prosper- 
ity of  his  country,  and  to  deserve  one  day  its  grati- 
tude. For  there  is  a  national  gratitude  for  individuals. 
At  this  moment  a  people  are  all  assembled  to  express 
their  gratitude  to  the  virtuous  citizens  who  have  de- 
served it.  How  agreeable  is  the  task!  How  we  delight 
m  paying  you  that  homage ;  you  to  whom  the  country 
owes  its  safety,  its  glory,  and  the  foundation  of  its 
prosperity ! 

You,  to  whom  France  owes  its  political  regeneration  ; 
courageous  philosophers,  whose  writings  have  planted 
the  seeds  of  the  revolution,  corroded  the  fetters  of  sla- 
very, and  blunted  by  degrees  the  ravings  of  fanaticism. 
You,  citizens,  whose  dauntless  courage  effected  this 
happy  revolution;  founded  the  republic,  and  contend- 
ed these  seven  years  against  crime  and  ambition,  royal- 
ism  and  anarchy.  You  all,  in  a  word,  who  labor  to 
render  France  happy  and  flourishing ;  who  render  it 
illustrious  by  your  talents,  and  enrich  it  by  your  dis- 
coveries ;  receive  the  solemn  testimony  of  national 
gratitude. 

Receive  that  testimony  particularly,  republican  ar- 
tnies ;  you,  whose  glory  and  successes  are  fresh  in  the 

recollection 


84  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

rccoIiecLion  of  all.  It  is  you  who  have  defended  !is 
against  ton  combined  kings  ;  who  have  driven  them 
from  our  territory  ;  have  transferred  to  their  dominions 
the  scourge  of  war.  You  have  not  only  conquered 
men  ;  you  have  overcome  the  obstacle  thrown  m  your 
way  by  nature.  You  have  triumphed  over  fatigue, 
hunger,  and  winter.  What  a  spectacle  for  the  people ! 
what  a  dreadful  lesson  to  the  enemies  of  liberty  ! 

A  new-born  republic  arms  its  children  to  defend  its 
independence  ;  nothing  can  restrain  their  impetuosity  ; 
traversing  rivers,  carrying  entrenchments,  chmbing 
rocks,  ilere,  after  a  series  of  victories,  they  pushed 
back  our  limits  to  those  k^rriors  that  nature  intended 
for  us,  and  pursuing  over  ice  the  remains  of  thi-ee  ar- 
mies, transformed  an  oppressed  and  hostile  nation  into 
a  free  and  allied  people.  There  they  fly  to  exterminate  J 
the  hordes  of  traitors  and  villain.^,  subsidized  by  En-- 
o-land;  punish  their  thieves,  and  restore  to  the  repub- 
fic  brothers  too  long  misled.  Here,  surmounting  the 
Pyrenees,  and  precipitating  themselves  from  their  sum- 
mit;  overthrowing  whatever  opposes  their  progress, 
and  checked  only  by  an  honorable  peace ;  there  as- 
cending the  Alps  and  Appenines,  they  fly  across  the 
Po  and  Adige.  .     . 

The  ardor  of  the  soldier  is  seconded  by  the  geinus| 
and  boldness  of  the  chiefs.  They  phin  with  science,^ 
and  execute  with  energy  ;  now  displaying  their  forces 
with  calmness ;  then  courting  danger  at  the  head  of 
their  brothers  in  arms.  Oh  that  I  could  here  display 
die  immense  and  glorious  picture  of  their  victories  I 
that  I  could  name  our  most  intrepid  defenders  !  W  hat 
a  crowd  of  sublime  images  and  beloved  names  press 
upon  my  recollection  !  "immortal  wamors,  posterity 
will  not  believe  the  multitude  of  your  triumphs  ;  but  to 
u=^  history  loses  all  its  improbabilities. 

But  do  we  not  see,  even  on  this  spot,  a  portion  ot 
tbose  brave  deienders  ?  Victors  over  the  exterior  ene- 
mies of  the  state,  they  have  come  to  repress  our  inter- 
nal enemies;   and    preserve    at   home   the   republic 

which 


TliE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  85 

v^hich  they  have  caused  to  be  respected  abroad.  Do 
we  not  also  see  those  venerable  warriors  who  have 
grown  grey  in  the  service;  those  whom  honorable 
wounds  have  obliged  to  seek  premature  repose,  and 
whose  asylum  is  in  sight?  With  what  pleasure  our 
eyes  feed  on  this  interesting  reunion!  With  w'hat 
agreeable  emotions  we  contemplate  those  victorious 
I  brows! 

I     Heroes  who  have  perished  for  liberty,  why  does  there 
I  remain  to  us  nothing  but  a  recollection  of  your  services  ? 
I  You  will,  however,  live  forever  in  our  hearts;  your 
children  will  be  dear  to  us  ;  the  republic  will  repay  to 
I  them  the  debt  they  owe   to  you ;  and  we  discharge 
here  the  first,  by  proclaiming  your  glory  and  our  grat- 
iitude.     Republican  armies,  represented  here,  by  war- 
;riors  from  your  ranks;  invincible  phalanxes,  whose 
trophies  I  observe  on  all  sides,  whose  fresh  successes 
I  foresee,  come   forward  and   receive    the  triumphal 
crowns  which  the  French  people  command  me  to  at- 
tach to  your  colours. 


Address   of  Mr.  Adet,    French    Ambassador,   on 

;      PRESENTING     THE     CoLOURS     OP     FrANCE,    TO     THE 

United  States,  1796. 


Mr.  President, 

I  COME  to  acquit  myself  of  a  duty  very  dear  to  my 
heart.     I  come  to  deposit  in  your  hands,  and  in  the 
midst  of  a  people  justly  renowned  for  their  courage, 
and  their  love  of  liberty,  the  symbol  of  the  triumph  and 
the  enfranchisement  of  my  nation. 
.      When  she  broke  her  chain ;  when  she  proclaimed 
1  the  imprescriptible  rights  of  man  ;  when,  in  a  terrible 
war,  she  sealed  with  her  blood  the  covenant  made  with 
liberty,  her  own  happiness  was  not  alone  the  object  of 
her  glorious  efforts ;  her  views  extended  also  to  all 
free  people ;  she  saw  their  ittt^srests  blended  with  her 
H  own, 


S6  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR* 

own,  and  doubly  rejoiced  in  her  victories,  which,  la 
assuring  to  her  the  enjoyments  of  her  rights,  became  to 
them  new  guarantees  of  their  independence. 

These  sentiments,  which  animated  the  French  na- 
tion, from  the  dawn  of  their  revolution,  have  acquired 
new  strength  since  the  foundation  of  the  republic. 
France,  at  that  time,  by  the  form  of  its  government,  as- 
similated to,  or  rather  identified  with  free  people,  saw 
in  them  only  friends  and  brothers.  Long  accustomed 
to  regard  the  American  people  as  their  most  faithful 
allies,  she  has  sought  to  draw  closer  the  ties  already 
formed  in  the  fields  of  America,  under  the  auspices  of 
victory  over  the  ruins  of  tyranny. 

The  National  Convention,  the  organs  of  the  will  of 
the  French  Nation,  have  more  than  once  expressed 
their  sentiments  to  the  American  people  ;  but  above  all, 
these  burst  forth  on  that  august  day,  when  the  Minister 
of  the  United  States  presented  to  the  National  Repre- 
sentation, the  colours  of  his  country,  desiring  never  to 
lose  recollections  as  dear  to  Frenchmen  as  they  must 
be  to  Americans.  The  Convention  ordered  that  these 
colours  should  be  placed  in  the  hall  of  their  sittrngs. 
They  had  experienced  sensations  too  agreeable  not  to 
cause  them  to  be  partaken  of  by  their  allies,  and  de- 
creed that  to  them  the  national  colours  should  be  pre- 
sented. 

Mr,  President,  I  do  not  doubt  their  expectations  will 
be  fulfilled  ;  and  I  am  convinced,  that  every  citizen  will 
receive,  with  a  pleasing  emotion,  this  flag,  elsewhere 
tjie  terror  of  the  enemies  of  liberty  ;  here  the  certain 
pledge  of  faithful  friendship  ;  especially  when  they 
r^coUect  that  it  guides  to  combat,  men  who  have 
shared  their  toils,  and  who  were  prepared  for  liberty, 
by  aiding  th^m  to  s^cquire  thqiv  own. 

Prksiixent 


TrIE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  87 


President  WASIII^'GTON's  Answer. 

BORN,  Sir,  in  a  land  of  liberty ;  having  early 
learned  its  value ;  having  engaged  in  a  perilous 
conflict  to  defend  it ;  having,  in  a  word,  devoted  the 
best  years  of  my  life  to  secure  it  a  permanent  establisJi- 
ment  in  my  own  country ;  my  anxious  recollections, 
my  sympathetic  feelings,  and  my  best  wishes  are  irre- 
sistibly excited,  whensoever,  in  any  country,  I  see  an 
oppressed  nation  unfurl  the  banners  of  freedom.  But 
above  all,  the  events  of  the  French  revolution  have  pro- 
duced the  deepest  solicitude,  as  well  as  the  highest 
admiration.  To  call  your  nation  }>rave,  were  to  }>ro- 
nounce  but  common  praise.  WONDERFUL  PEO- 
PLE !  ages  to  come  will  read  with  astonishment  the 
history  of  your  brilliant  exploits. 

I  rejoice  that  the  period  of  your  toils  and  of  your 
immense  sacrifices  is  appro&ohing.  I  ivj^ice  tiiai  iivff 
interesting  revolutionary  movements  of  so  many  years 
have  issued  in  the  formation  of  a  constitution  designed 
to  give  permanency  to  the  great  object  for  which  you 
have  contended.  I  rejoice  that  liberty,  which  you 
have  so  long  embraced  with  enthusiasm;  liberty,  of 
which  you  have  been  the  invincible  defenders,  now 
finds  an  asylum  in 'the  bo;^om  of  a  regularly  organized 
government :  a  government,  which,  being  formed  to 
secure  the  happiness  of  the  French  people,  corresponds 
with  the  ardent  wishes  of  my  heart,  while  it  gratifies 
the  pride  of  every  citizen  of  the  United  States,  by  its 
resemblance  of  their  own.  On  these  glorious  events, 
accept.  Sir,  my  sincere  congratulations. 

In  delivering  to  you  these  sentiments,  I  express  not 
my  own  feelings  only,  but  those  of  my  fellow-citizens, 
in  relation  to  the  commencement,  the  progress,  and  the 
issue^  of  the  French  revolution  ;  and  they  will  cordi- 
ally join  with  me  in  purest  wishes  to  the  Supreme  Be- 
i  ing,  that  the  ciiizens  of  our  sister  republic,  our  mag- 
nanimous 


C8  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

nanimous  allies,  may  soon  enjoy,  in  peace,  that  libertjr,! 
which  they  have  purchased  at  so  great  a  price,  and  all 
ihe  happiness  which  liberty  can  bestow. 

I  receive,  Sir,  with  lively  sensibility,  the  symbol  o£j 
the  triumphs  and  of  the  enfranchisements  of  your  na- 
tion, the  colours  of  France,  which  you  have  now  pre- 
sented to  the  United  States.  The  transaction  will  be 
announced  to  Congress  ;  and  the  colours  will  be  depos- 
ited with  those  archives  of  the  United  States,  which^ 
are  at  once  the  evidences  and  the  caemorials  of  their 
freedom  and  independence.  May  these  be  perpetual ; 
and  may  the  friendship  of  the  two  republics  be  com- 
mensurate with  their  existence. 


I 


The  Oppressive  Landlord. 

Enter  Don  Philip  and  Wife. 
r»       nL-7-    17t7ELTi,  my  dear,  I  have  warned  all 

non  Philip,  y y  ^^^  ^^^^^j.^^  ^^^  ^^  ^^  ^      ^^^^^ 

of  buildings,  and  ordered  them  to  pay  double  the  rent 
they  have  done,  for  every  day  they  remain.  From 
every  new  tenant  I  am  determined  to  have  three  times 
the  sum.  The  present  rent  will  never  do  in  these  times. 
Our  children  will  become  beggars  at  this  rate  ;  and  you 
and  I  shall  have  to  betake  ourselves  to  hand  labour, 
like  the  common  herd,  to  earn  our  daily  bread. 

Wife,  Bat  I  fear  that  some  of  our  tenants  are  too 
poor  to  endure  a  rent,  double  to  what  they  now  pay ; 
and  I  am  certain  it  will  be  impossible  for  them  all  to 
remove,  on  account  of  the  scarcity  of  houses  to  be  ob- 
tained. 

Don  P.  That  is  not  my  look  out.  It  is  enough  for 
me  to  attend  to  my  own  interest,  not  theirs. 

Wife,  But  you  will  exercise  a  litde  lenity  towards 
them,  at  this  distressing  time.  1  am  persuaded,  my 
dear,  that  you  will  not  turn  them  into  the  street.  Be- 
sides, it  is  thought  by  some,  that  they  already  pay  '' 
reasonable  rent. 

Don  P. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  39 

"Don  P,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  lenity.  Woman, 
would  you  not  have  your  husband  be  looking  out  ai^ainst 
a  rainy  day  ?  What  would  become  of  you,  and  your 
children,  if  I  were  to  spend  my  time  in  studying /e/nVy, 
instead  of  my  interest-table  ?  I  tell  you,  that  now  is  the 
harvest  time,  and  I  am  determined  to  thrust  in  the  sic- 
kle, and  reap  my  proportion  of  the  crop,  before  the  sea- 
son's over.  The  town  is  crowded  with  foreigners  who 
are  exiled  from  their  homes,  and  necessity  obliges  them 
to  pay  whatever  price  is  demanded,  for  a  shelter  tQ 
cover  their  heads. 

Wife,  Would  you  then  profit  by  the  necessities  and 
misfortunes  of  your  fellow  creatures  ?  These  exiles  are 
entitled  to  our  compassion,  instead  of  experiencing  our 
oppression. 

Don  P,  You  talk  like  a  poor  weak  woman.  Did  1 
not  tell  you  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  other  peo- 
ple's good  or  ill  fortune  ?  It  is  more  than  I  can  do  to 
take  care  of  my  own  dependants.  We  should  make 
fine  way  ahead,  if  you  were  at  helm.  I  believe  in  my 
conscience,  that,  if  you  possessed  the  keys  of  the  strong 
box,  you  would  squander  away  to  the  full  amount  of 
a  pistareen  a  week  upon  these  poor  starving  runaways'. 
I  have  not  yet  forgotten  how  you  lavished  a  whole  gali 
Ion  of  cider  upon  those  three  miserable  wTCtches  that 
cleared  out  our  well,  the  day  before  thanksgiving. 
Does  this  look  like  taking  a  prudent  care  of  your  fam- 
ily ?  Pray  how  do  you  read  your  Bible  ?  Has  not 
Nebuchadnezzar  said,  that  ''  He,  who  provides  not  for 
his  own  household,  has  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worse 
than  an  infidel  ?" 

Wife,  If  you  had  studied  your  Bible  as  faithfully 
as  you  have  your  interest-table,  you  would  not  have 
put  St.  Paul's  words  into  the  mouth  of  the  king  of 
Babylon.  Does  not  the  same  scripture  say,  that  "  He 
who  op})resseth  the  poor,  and " 

Don  P.  Hush,  I  say  ;  one  of  my  tenants  approaches. 
Banish  your  womanish  feelings ;  and  kt  not'  your  un*" 
nily  tongue  betray  your  weakness* 

H  2  Enter 


90  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Enter  Tenant. 
Ten,  Sir,  I  come  to  inform  you,  that  I  have  at  last 
been  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  shelter  for  my  fam- 
ily, though  an  indifferent  one  ;  and  have  brought  you 
the  rent  of  your  tenement,  which  I  quitted  with  re- 
luctance yesterday. 

Don  P,  It  is  well  you  are  out ;  for  you  would  have 
met  with  trouble,  if  you  had  remained  three  days  longer. 
I  had  ordered  my  attorney  to  give  directions  to  an  officer 
to  tumble  all  your  goods  into  the  street,  and  you  and 
your  children  after  them. 

Ten,  Then  a  good  Providence  has  preserved  us. 

Don  P,  Providence  has  smiled  upon  me,  I  confess, 
in  granting  me  such  a  riddance. 

Ten.  I  contead  not  with  an  adversary  who  is  man- 
tled in  gold.  Will  you  please-  to  count  your  money, 
and  give  me  a  discharge  ?. 

Don  P,  l^Cowits  the  money, '\  Why,  man,  the  sum  is 
deficient ;  I  cannot  receipt  it. 

Ten,  It  is  the  same.  Sir,  as  I  paid  the  last  term. 

Don  P,  That  is  very  true  ;  but  did  I  not  double  the 
rent  three  days  ago  ? 

Ten,  You  did,  indeed;  but  my  reply  was,  that  I 
was  utterly  unable  to  pay  a  higher  price  ;  and  as  the 
time  was  so  short,.  I  thought  you  would  not  stand  for 
trifles. 

Don  P,  Trifles!  If  you  were  to  receive  it,  I  believe 
you  would  not  call- it  a  trifle  ;  neither  do  I.  I  demand 
the  utmost  farthing* 

Ten,  For  the  sake  of  peace,  though  I  think  your  de- 
mand unjust,  I  will  take  your  receipt  for  this,  and 
bring  the  remainder  to-morrow. 

Don  P,  Not  a  cent  will  I  receive  without  the  whok, 
lest  by  some  quibble  of  the  law  I  lose  the  rest. 

Ten,  Your  avaricious  disposition  leads  you  to  act 
contrary  to  your  own  interest. 

Don  P.  I  shall  not  apply  to  you  for  lessons  of  in-j 
struction.     I  shall  conduct  my  own  aflairs  according  t( 
my  sovereign  will  and  pleasure.    Let  me  teil  you,  Sir, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  SI 

this  impudence  does  not  well  become  a  man  of  yoili' 
circumstances. 

Ten,  "  Sir,  your  honored  father  never  used  me 
thus."  Alas!  he  little  thought  in  what  oppressi\7e 
hands  he  leftvhis  large  estate.  Could  he  be  permit- 
ted to  revisit  the  earth,  his  ghost  would  haunt  your  guilty 
soul  ;  and,  if  you  have  any  conscience  left,  harrow  up 
remorse,  and  awaken  you  to  repentance. 
.  Don  P,  I  did  not  admit  a  tenant  into  my  house  to 
hear  a  moral  lecture  from  him. 

Ten,  If  you  will  take  your  money,  I  will  quit  your 
house  with  pleasure.  Bui  before  we  part,  give  me  leave 
to  tell  you,  that,  though  your  great  wealth  has  exalted 
you  above  yourself,  and,  in  your  own  opinon,  placed 
you  beyond  the  reach  of  poverty,  the  time  7nai/  come 
when  you  will  feel  what  oppression  is. 

Iflfe,  I  entreat  you  to  receive  the  money ,  and  be 
content. 

Don  P,  A  woman,  who  can't  be  silent  in  her  hus- 
band's presence,  especially  when  he  is  negociating  im- 
portant business,  may  take  a  modest  hint  to  leave  the 
room.  [Exit  Wife. 

Ten.  If  you  are  resolved  not  to  receive  your  money, 
I  must  carry  it  home  again.  And  I  hope  the  time  is 
not  far  distant,  when  I  shall  be  out  of  tlie  reach  of  your 
oppressive  hands.  [Exit, 

Don  P.  [Solus,']  Every  man  I  deal  with  is  trying 
to  cheat  me.  Mankind  are  by  nature  all  knaves.  I 
am  afraid  to  trust  even  my  best  friends.  What  an  af- 
fliction it  is  to  have  property  !  The  poor  always  think 
that  the  rich  are  bound  to  maintain  them,  and  are 
never  satisfied  with  what  is  done  for  them.  My  ten- 
ants would  be  glad  to  live  in  my  houses  rent  keQ  if 
they  could.  This,  I  am  persuaded,  they  learned  of 
my  father ;  but  I'll  soon  teach  them  to  expect  different 
things.  Rather  than  matters  should  go  on  at  such 
loose  ends,  I'll  sell  every  one  of  my  buildings,  and  put 
the  money  in  bank.  My  mind  is  constantly  on  the 
stretch  to  contrive  ways  and  means  to  preserve  what 

little 


9-2  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

little  I  possess.  It  is  well  my  father  left  his  property 
to  me.  Had  he  left  it  to  one  of  only  common  under- 
standing, these  plotting  tenants  would  have  run  away 
with  the  whole  of  it. 

Enter  second  Tenant. 

2 J.  Tenant,  Sir,  I  appear  before  you  to  crave  your^ 
compassion.     I  am  the  most  unfortunate  of  all  your 
tenants.     My  misfr.rtune  is,  to  be  obliged  to  remain 
in  your  house,  after  it  is  your  pleasure  that  I  should  | 
leave  it.  V 

Don  P.  To-morrow  I  will  cure  you  of  your  misfor-  - 
tune  ;  for  if  you  cannot  get  out  yourself,  I  will  help  ^% 
you  out.  1^ 

2d.  Ten,  Why  may  I  not  remain  ?    It  may  be  for  a 
your  interest  as  well  as  miner     I  have  ever  made  you  I 
punctual  payment ;  and  stand  ready  now  to  give  as  1 
much  as  any  other  man,  or  as  much  as  your  conscience 
will  suffer  you  to  demand. 

Don  P.  My  will  and  pleasure  is,  that  you  depart 
immediately.  My  reasons  for  my  conduct  1  give  to  no 
man.  i 

^d.  Ten.  But,  Sir,  I  have  a  claim  upon  your  mercy-  I 
You  are  not  insensible  of  the  pains,  I've  taken  to  accom-  1 
plish  what  you  wish.    Necessity  is  the  only  reason  why  \ 
I  ask  this  favour.    One  special  reason  why  you  ought  to 
grant  it  is,  that  I  am  now  in  your  service  with  the  same 
salary  as  in  y^ars  past ;    when  your  good  father  was 
satisfied  with  one  fourth  the  sum  his  craving  son  de* 
mands.     I  have  been,  you  must  allow,  a  faithful  slave 
to  your  children.     They  have  long  received,  and  still 
receive  my  best  instruction,  without  an  augmentation, 
of  reward.     If  you  v»'ill  not  hear  the  plea  of  mercy, 
grant  me  justice.     If  you  increase  your  price  of  rent, 
increase  my  pay. 

Don  P.  I  meddle  not  with  your  affairs.  Look  out 
for  your  pay  among  your  employers.  I  am  but  one* 
among  many,  and  promise  you  that  I  shall  not  be  fore- 
most to  enhance  the  price  of  instruction,  while  childrervj 
are  so  numerous.     My  houses  are  my  own*.    I  boughtj 

them. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  »3 

:  them  with  my  own  money  ;  and  shall  dispose  of  them 
at  my  own  pleasure. 

2f/.  Ten.  You  speak  as  though  you  were  lord  of  the 
creation,  and  had  the  world  at  ycur  command. 

Don  P.  I  am  lord  of  my  own  possessions  ;  and  shall 
not  ask  my  tenants  how  I  am  to  dispose  of  them. 

2d,   Ten.  Did  you  ever  read,   that  "  Riches  take  to 
tjhemselves  wings,  and  ily  away  ?" 
'   Don  P.  I  am  not  apprehensive  that  any  wrings  ar^ 
attached  to  my  property. 

2cL  2\n.  Your  mountain  may  not  stand  so  strong  as 
you  think  it  does.  The  cries  of  the  fatherless  and  the 
widow,  who  have  groaned  under  your  oppression,  have 
reached  the  heavens,  and  you  have  reason  to  fear  they 
will  be  answered  with  vengeance  on  your  head.  Did 
you  but  believe  in  a  future  day  of  retribution,  as  you 
have  impiously  professed,  you  would  seriously  engage  in 
the  work  of  repentance  and  reformation  :  which,  let 
me  tell  you,  it  is  presumption  to  neglect. 

.  Re-enter  first  Tenant  laith  a  Law'YER. 

\st.  Ten.  I  pray  you  to  accept  your  money,  and 
give  me  a  discharge. 

Don  P.  I  told  you,  not  a  cent,  till  the  whole  amount 
y  was  paid. 

'  Laiu.  That  is  sufficient.  The  low  allows  no  force 
in  paying  debts.  Every  creditor  has  an  undoubted 
right  to  refuse  his  money,  when  offered  by  his  debtor.. 
This  he  has  done  before  witness.  I  now  declare  it 
forfeit.     Keep  it  as  your  own. 

Don  P.  Rogues  will  always  combine  against  honest 
men.  The  whole  world  are  endeavouring  to  cheat 
me  out  of  my  lawful  earnings.  My  best  friends  have 
become  my  worst  enemies. 

Law.  Y'ou  have  no  friends  ;  nor  will  you  ever  have,. 

I  long  as  you  make  an  idol  of  your  own  dear  self. 

Don,  P.  My  property  is  my  best  friend,  and  one 
which  I  trust  will  never  forsake  me. 

[Cry  of  fire  without,. 
Enter 


94  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Enter  Servant  in  haste, 

Ser.  Sir,  your  long  row  of  buildings  is  all  in  flames  ! 

Don  P.  Impossible  ! — They  were  all  to  be  insured 
to-morrow. 

Ser,  It  is  seriously  true  !  and  the  roofs  are  now 
tumbling  to  the  ground ! 

Don  P,  Then  immediately  call  all  hands,  and  put 
fire  to  this,  and  every  other  building  I  possess  ;  that 
they  may  all  go  to  destruction  together. 

2d.  Ten,  That  looks  something  like  giving  wings  to 
your  riches. 

Don  P,  If  I  had  had  one  thimble  full  of  brains,  I 
should  have  got  them  insured  before.  O  horrible  ca- 
tastrophe !  Not  only  wicked  men  and  devils,  but  even 
the  elements  themselves  have  turned  against  me. 

Law.  Compose  yourself,  dear  Sir.  Your  best  friend 
won't  be  so  cruel  as  to  forsake  you,  at  this  critical  mo 
men-t. 

Don  P,  Is  my  money  safe  ?  If  that  is  burnt,  I'll 
burn  myself.  Oh  that  I  had  permitted  my  tenants  ta 
remain,  that  they  and  their  property  might  all  have 
perished  in  the  flames  together ! 


Lord  Mansfield's  Speech,  in  SuppoRt  or  a  Bill 

FOR    PREVENTING    DeLAYS    OF    JuSTICE,    BY  ReASON 

OF  Privilege  op  Parliament,  1770. 

■■     -     ■        ■  ■  '  ...  II  I         I  III      H MM       .1111  *    III 

My  Lords, 

I  HAVE  waited  with  patience  to  hear  what  argu- 
ments might  be  urged  against  the  bill ;  but  I  have 
waited  in  vain  ;  the  truth  is,  there  is  no  argument  that 
can  weigh  against  it.  The  justice  and  expediency  of 
the  bill  are  such  as  render  it  self-evident.  It  is  a  propo- 
sition of  that  nature,  that  can  neither  be  weakened  by 
argument,  nor  entangled  with  sophistry. 

We  all  knovr,  that  the  very  soul  and  essence  of  trade 
are  regular  payments  ;  and  sad  experience  teaches  us 

tha 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  95 

that  there  are  men,  who  will  not  make  their  regular 
payments  without  the  compulsive  power  of  the  laws. 
The  law  then  ought  to  be  equally  open  to  all.  Any 
exemption  to  particular  men,  or  particular  ranks  of 
men,  is,  in  a  free  and  commercial  country,  a  solecism 
of  the  grossest  nature. 

.  I  will  not  trouble  your  lordships  with  arguments  for 
diat  which  is  sufficiently  evident  without  any.  I  shall 
only  say  a  few  words  to  some  noble  lords,  who  fore- 
see much  inconveniency  from  the  persons  of  their  ser- 
vants being  liable  to  be  arrested.  One  noble  lord  ob- 
serves, that  the  coachman  of  a  peer  may  be  arrested 
while  he  is  driving  his  master  to  the  House ;  and,  con- 
sequently, he  will  not  be  able  to  attend  his  duty  in 
Parliament.  If  this  were  actually  to  happen,  there  are 
so  many  ways  by  which  the  member  might  still  get  to 
the  House,  that  I  can  hardly  think  the  noble  lord  is  se- 
rious in  his  objection.  Another  noble  peer  said,  that 
by  this  bill  we  might  lose  our  most  valuable  and  honest 
servants.  This  1  hold  to  be  a  contradiction  in  terms : 
for  he  can  neither  be  a  valuable  servant,  nor  an  honest 
man,  who  gets  into  debt  which  he  is  neither  able  nor 
willing  to  pay,  till  compelled  by  law. 

If  my  servant,  by  unforeseen  accidents,  has  run  into 
debt,  and  I  still  wish  to  retain  him,  I  certainly  would 
pay  the  debt.  But  upon  no  principle  of  liberal  legis- 
lation whatever,  can  my  servant  have  a  title  to  set  his 
creditors  at  defiance,  while  for  forty  shillings  only,  the 
honest  tradesman  maybe  torn  from  his  family,  and 
locked  up  in  a  jail.  It  is  monstrous  injustice  !  I  flat- 
ter myself,  however,  the  determination  of  this  day  will 
entirely  put  an  end  to  all  such  partial  proceedincrs  for 
the  future,  by  passing  into  a  law  the  bill  now  under 
your  lordships'  consideration. 

I  come  now  to  speak,  upon  what,  indeed,  I  would 
have  gladly  avoided,  had  I  not  been  particularly  point- 
ed at  for  the  part  I  have  taken  in  this  bill.  It  has 
been  said  by  a  noble  lord  on  my  left  hand,  that  I  like- 
wise am  running  the  race  of  popularity.     If  the  noble 

lord 


%  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

lord  means  by  popularity,  that  applause  bestowed  by 
after-ages  on  good  and  virtuous  actions,  I  have  long 
been  struggling  in  that  race.  But  if  he  mean  that 
mushroom  popularity,  which  is  raised  without  merit  and 
lost  without  a  crime,  he  much  mistakes  in  his  opinion. 

I  defy  the  noble  lord  to  point  out  a  single  action  of 
my  life,  where  the  popularity  of  the  times  ever  had 
the  smallest  influence  on  my  determinations.  I  have  a 
more  permanent  and  steady  rule  for  my  conduct,  the 
dictates  of  my  own  breast.  Those  who  have  forgone 
that  pleasing  adviser,  and  given  up  their  mind  to  be  the 
slave  of  every  popular  impulse,  I  sincerely  pity.  ^  I 
pity  them  still  more,  if  their  vanity  leads  diem  to  mis- 
take the  shouts  of  a  mob  for  die  trumpet  of  fame.  Ex- 
perience might  inform  them,  that  many  who  have  been 
saluted  with  the  huzzas  of  a  crowd,  one  day,  have 
received  their  execrations  the  next ;  and  many,  who, 
by  the  popularity  of  their  times,  have  been  held  up  as 
spodess  patriots,' have,  nevertheless,  appeared  upon  the 
historian's  page,  when  truth  has  triumphed  over  deluf 
sion,  the  assassins  of  liberty. 

Why  then  the  noble  lord  can  think  I  am  ambitious 
of  present  popularity,  that  echo  of  folly,  and  shadow  of 
renown,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  determine.  Besides,  I  do 
not  knov/  that  the  bill  now  before  your  lordships  will , 
be  popular.  It  depends  much  upon  the  caprice  of  the 
day.  It  may  not  be  popular  to  compel  people  to  pay 
their  debts  ;  and,  in  that  case^  the  present  must  be  a 
very  unpopular  bill.  It  may  not  be  popular  neither 
to  take  away  any  of  the  privileges  of  parliament :  for 
I  very  well  remember,  and  many  of  your  lordships 
may  remember,  that  not  long  ago  the  popular  cry  was 
for  the  extension  of  privilege  ;  and  so  far  did  they 
carry  it  at  that  time,  that  it  was  said  that  the  privilege- 
protected  members  even  in  criminal  actions.  Nay,  such 
was  the  power  of  popular  prejudices  over  weak  minds, 
that  the  very  decisions  of  some  of  tb^  courts  were  tinc- 
tured with  that  doctrine. 

It 


i 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  97 

It  was  undoubtedly  an  abominable  doctrine.  I 
tliought  so  then,  and  think  so  still :  but  novertheless, 
it  was  a  popular  doctrine,  and  came  immeaialoly  irom 
those  who  were  .called  the  friends  of  liberty  ;  how  de- 
servedly, time  will  show.  True  liberty,  in  rny  opi  i- 
ion,  can  only  exist  when  justice  is  equally  administcreJ 
to  ail ;  to  the  king,  and  lo  the  beggar.  Where  is  the 
justice,  then,  or  where  is  the  law,  that  ^.roiccts  a  mem- 
ber of  parliament  more  than  any  other  man,  from  the 
punishment  due  to  his  crimes  ?  The  laws  of  t]}i3  coun- 
try allow  of  no  place,  nor  any  employment,  to  be  a 
sanctuary  for  crimes  ;  and  where  I  have  the  honor  to 
sit  as  judge,  neither  royal  favour,  nor  popular  applause 
shall  ever  protect  the  guilty. 


Extract  from  a  Sermon  on  the  Day  of  Judgment* 

LET  us  endeavour  to  realize  the  majesty  and  terror 
of  the  universal  alarm  on  the  final  Judgment  Day. 
When  the  dead  are  sleeping  in  the  silent  grave ;  when  \ 
the  living  are  thoughdess  and  unapprehensive  of  the    * 
grand  event,  or  intent  on  other  pursuits  ;  some  of  them 
asleep  in  the  dead  of  night ;  some  6f  them  dissolved  in 
sensual  pleasures,  eating  and  drinking,  marrying  and 
giving  in  marriage  ;  some  of  them  planning  or  execu- 
ting schemes  for  riches  or  honors ;  some  in  the  very    | 
act  of  sin  ;  the  generality  stupid  and  careless  about    J 
the  concerns  of  eternity,  and  the  dreadful  day  just  at    1 
hand  ;  and  a  few  here  and  there  conversing  with  their 
God,  and  looking  for  the  glorious  appearance  of  their 
Lord  and  Saviour;  when  the  course  of  nature  runs. on 
uniform  and  regular  as  usual,  and  infidel  scoffers.are' 
taking  umbrage  from  thence  to  ask,  *'  Where  is.  th^' 
promise  of  his  coming  ?"     In  short,  when  there  are  no 
more  visible  appearances  of  this  approaching  day,  than 
of  the  destruction  of  Sodom,  on  that  clear  morning  in 
which  Lot  fled  away  ;  or  of  the  deluge,  when  Noah  en- 

I  ter^d 


I 


93  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

tered  into  die  ark  :  ihcn,  in  that  liour  of  unapprehensive 
security,  then  suddenly  shall  the  heavens  open  over  the 
astonished  world;  then  shall  the  alarming  clangor  break. 
over  their  heads  like  a  clap  of  thunder  in  a  clear  sky. 
Immediately  the  living  turn  their  ga-zing  eyes  upon 
the  amazing  phenomenon:    some  hear  the    Iong.»A- 
pected  sound  with  rapture,  and  lift  up  their  heads  with^ 
joy,  assured  that  the  day  of  their  redemption  is  conie  ; 
w^hile  the  thoughdcss  world  arc  struck  with  the  wild-  | 
est  horror  and  consternation.     In  the  same  instant  the 
sound  reaches  all  the  mansions  of  the  dead  ;  and  in^a  ; 
moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  they  are  raised, 
and  the  living  are  changed.     This  call  will  be  as  ani- 
mating to  all  the  sons  bf  men,  as  that  call  to  a  single 
person,  *'  Lazarus,  come  forth."     O  what  a  surprise 
will  this  be  to  the  thoughtless  world  !  Should  this  alarm 
burst  over  our  heads  this  moment,  into  what  a  terror 
would  it  strike  many  in  this  assenibly  ?    Such  will  be 
the  terror,  such    the  consternation,  when  it  actually 
comes  to  pass.     Sinners  will  bedae  same  timorous, seU- 
condemned  creatures  then  as  diey  are  now.     And  then 
they  will  not  be  able  to  stop  their  ears, >who  are  deaf  to 
all  the  gentler  calls  of  t]i3  gospel  now. 

Then  the  trump  of  God  will  constrain  them  to  hear 
and  fear,  to  whom  the  ministers  of  Christ  now  preach 
in  vain.  Then  they  must  all  hear  ;  for,  "  all  that 
are  in  their  graves,"  all  without  exception,  "  shall 
hear  his  voice."  Now  the  voice  of  mercy  calls,  reason 
pleads,  conscience  war-ns  ;  but  multitudes  will  not  hear. 
But  this  is  a  voice  which  shall,  which  must  reach  every 
one  of  the  millions  of  mankind,  and  not  one  of  them  will 
be  able  to  stop  his  ears,  infants  and  giants,  kings  and 
subjects,  all  ranks,  all  a^es  of  mankind  shall  hear  the 
call.  The  living  shall  start  and  be  changed,  and  the 
dead  rise  at  the  sound.  The  dust  that  was  once  Slivc 
and  formed  a  human  body,  whether  it  Qies  in  the  an-, 
floats  in  the  ocean,  or  vegetates  on  earth,  shall  hear 
the  new-creating  fiat.  Wherever  the  fragments  oi 
the  human  frame  are  scattered,  this  all  penetrating  ca 


Siia; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  99 

shall  reacii  and  ^pcak  thorn  into  life.  We  iiiay  con- 
sider this  voice  as  a  summons  not  only  to  dead  bodies 
to  rise,  but  to  the  souls  that  once  animated  them,  to  ap- 
pear and  be  re-united  to  them. 

This  summons  shall  spread  through  every  corner  of 
the  universe;  and  Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell,  and  al! 
their  inhabitants,  shall  hear  and  obev.  Now  mcthinks 
I  see,  I  hear  the  earth  heaving,  charnel  houses  rattling, 
tombs  bursting,  graves  opening.  Now  the  nations' un- 
der ground  begm  to  stir.  There  is  a  noise  and  a  sha- 
king among  the  dry  bones.  The  dust  is  all  aHve,  and 
m  motion,  and  the  globe  breaks  and  trembles,  as  wiili 
an  earthquake,  while  this  vast  army  is  working  its  way 
through,  and  bursting  into  life.  The  ruins  of  human 
bodies  are  scattered  far  and  wide,  and  have  passed 
through  many,  and  surprising  transformations.  A  limb 
in  one  country,  and  another  in  another ;  here  the  head, 
and  there  the  trunk ;  and  the  ocean  rolling  between. 

And  now,  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  they  shall  all 
be  collected,  wherever  they  were  scattered  ;  all  prop- 
erly sorted  and  united,  however' they  were  confused  ; 
atom  to  Its  fellow  atom,  bone  to  its  fellow  bone.  Now 
methinks  you  may  seethe  air  darkened  with  fragments 
of  bouics,  fl3Mng  from  country  to  countrv,  to  meet  and 
join  their  proper  parts  : 

"  Scatter'd  limbs  and  all 

The  various  boiK?s  obsequious  to  the  call, 
Self-mov'd,  advance  ;  the  neck  perhaps  to  meet 
The  distant  head,  the  distant  legs,  the  kct. 
Dreadful  to  view,  see  throuirh  the  dusky  sky 
Fragments  of  bodies  in  confusion  fly, 
To  distant  regions  journeying,  there  to  claim 
JJeserted  members,  and  complete  the  frame 
The  severd  head  and  trunk  shall  join  once  more, 
Ihough  realms  now  rise  between,  and  oceans  roan 
1  he  trumpet's  sound  each  vagrant  mote  shall  hear, 
Ur  hxW  in  earth,  or  if  afloat  in  air. 
Obey  the  signal,  wafted  in  the  wind, 
A'k]  not  one  sleeping  e-tom  lag  behind." 

Christ 


100  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 


Christ  TRiujiPHANT   over    the   apostate    Angels. 

SO  spake  the  Son,  and  into  teiTor  chang'd 
His  count'nance,  too  severe  to  be  beheld ; 
And  full  of  wrath  bent  on  his  enemies. 
At  once  the  Foiii'  spread  out  their  starry  wings 
With  dreadful  shade  contiguous,  and  the  orbs 
Of  his  fierce  chariot  rolPd,  as  with  the  sound 
Of  torrent  floods,  or  of  a  numerous  host. 
Mc  on  his  impious  foes  right  onv/ard  drove, 
tUioomy  as  night ;  under  his  burning  wheels 
The  stedfast  empyrean  shook  throughout, 
All  but  the  throne  itself  of  God.     Full  «ooni 
Ariiong  them  he  arriv'd,  in  his  right  hand 
C rasping  ten  thousand  thunders,  which  he  seiii 
Before  him,  such  as  in  their  souls  infix'd 
Plagues;  they,  astonish'd,  all  resistance  lost, 
All  courage;  down  their  idle  weapons  dropt ; 
O'er  shields,  and  helms,  and  helmed  heads,  he  rode, 
Of  thrones  and  mighty  seraphim  prostrate, 
That  wish'd  the  mountains  now  might  be  again 
Thrown  on  them  as  a  shelter  from  his  ire. 
Nor  less  on  either  side  tempestuous  fell 
His  arrows,  from  the  fourfold-visag'd  Four 
Distinct  with  eyes,  and  from  the  living  wheels 
Distinct  alike -with  multitude  of  eyes; 
One  spirit  in  them  rul'd,  and  ev'ry  eye 
Giar'd  lightning,  and  shot  forth  pernicious  fire 
Among  the  accurs'd,  that  withered  all  their  strengtli, 
And  of  their  v/onted  vigour  left  them  drain'd, 
Exhausted,  spiritless,  afflicted,  falPn. 
\'et  half  his  strength  he  put  not  forth,  but  check'd 
His  thunder  in  mid  volley  ;  for  he  meant 
Not  to  destroy,  but  root  them  out  of  Heav'n. 
The  overthrown  he  rais'd,  and  as  a  herd 
Of  goats  or  tim'rous  fiock  together  throng'd, 
Drove  them  before  him  thunderstj:uck,  pursued 


THE  COLUMTJIAN  ORATOR,  101 

With  terrors  and  with  furies  to  the  bounds 
And  crystal  wall  of  Hcav'n,  which,  opening  wide, 
RolPd  inward,  and  a  Spacious  gap  discios'd 
Into  the  wasteful  deep ;  the  monstrous  sight 
Struck  them  with  horror  backward,  but  far  worse 
UrgM  them  behind  ;  headlong  themselves  they  threw 
Down  from  the  verge  of  Heav'n  ^  eternal  wrath 
Burnt  after  them  to  the  bottomless  pit. 

Hell  heard  th'  unsufferable  noise  ;  Hell  saw 
Heav'n  ruining  from  Heav'n,  and  would  have  fled 
Affrighted  !  but  strict  fate  had  cast  too  deep 
Her  dark  foundations,  and  too  fast  had  bound. 
Nine  days  they  fell ;  confounded  Chaos  roar'd 
And  felt  tenfold  confusion  in  their  fall : 
Through  his  wild  anarchy,  so  huge  a  rout 
Inciunber'd  him  with  ruin.     Hell  at  last 
Yawning  receiv'd  them  whole,  and  on  them  clos'd } 
Hell,  their  fit  habitation,  fraught  with  fire 
Unquenchable,  the  house  of  woe  and  pain. 

Disburden'd  Heav'n  rejoic'd,  and  soon  repair'd 
Her  mural  breach,  returning  whence  it  roll'd. 
Sole  victor  from  the  expulsion  of  his  foes, 
Messiah  his  triumphal  chariot  turn'd : 
To  meet  him  all  his  saints,  who  silent  stood 
Eye-v/itnesses  of  his  almighty  acts, 
With  jubilee  advanc'd ;  and  as  they  went, 
Shaded  with  branching  palm,  each  order  bright, 
Sung  triumph,  and  him  sung  victorious  King, 
Son,  Heir,  and  Lord,  to  him  dominion  given 
Worthiest  to  reign.     He,  celebrated,  rode 
Triumphant  through  mid  Heav'n,  into  the  courts 
And  temple  of  his  mighty  Father,  thron'd 
On  high;  who  into  glory  him  receiv'd, 
Where  now  he  sits  at  the  right  hand  of  bliS5* 
13 

Slaa^SS 


/  io 


1.02  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Slaves  in  Barbary. 
A  Drama   in  two  Acts. 


I 


Persons  of  the  Drama. 
Hamet,  Bashaw  of  Tunis,  .1 

.  ''     '         >  Brothers,  and  Slaves  r:  Tunis,  \  I 

AmANDAR,  5  .    : 

Francisco,  Brother  to  Ozro  and  Amandar^  sent  to  re* 
Kidnap,         An,.Jhnericmi  Captive.  {^decm  them^ 

Gran,  A  Purchaser  of  Slaves, 

GoaTOK,   I    Sea  Captains. 

Teague,         An  Irish  Captive, 

Sharp,  An  African,  and  Kidnap'S  Slave,  ;   * 

Officer,  Auclioneer,  Guards,  Attendants,  Purchasers  ci 

Slaves,  ii'c,  * 


ACT  L— Scene  I. 
A  Garden, 
Amandar  solus,  conjxiud  zuith  a  chain, 
N  vain  the  flowens  spread  their  eaudy  coFours,  and 
fill  the   air  with  fragrance.     The  sun  has  not  a 
cheering  beam  for  mfe.     AW  nature's  smiles  are  frowns 
•o  him,   who  wears  the  chain   of  bondage.     Fifteen 
long  months   have    Vvitnessed  my   misfortune  :  what 
lackiess  winds  delay  Francisco's  passage  ? 
Enter  Gran  with  a  cant, 
Oran,  Moping  fugitive  !  quick  to  your  task.    [Beat 
ing  him.']     I  have  not  placed  you  here  to  mutter  t 
thc  herbs  and  flowers  :  they  need  the  labour  of  youi 
hands.     Let  them  have  it.;  or  hQavier  blows  shall  pun« 
ish  your  neglect. 

Aman,     Then  do  your  worst !  I  ask  tlie  fatal  blo' 
o  put  a  period  to  my  miseries. 

07'an,  Your  life  is  in  my  hands  ;  but  it  shall  be  prO) 
ibnged;  and  with  your  life,  PR  lengthei)  out.  youJ 
jn!se]-ic«..  Armri^, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  lOS 

-  Aman.  Unfeeling  tyrant !  from  you  1  only  ask  the 
murderer's  office.  Speech  was  designed  for  friendly 
intercourse  ;  it  ill  becomes  the  tiger.  In  brutal  silence, 
you  may  tear  my  flesh  :  add  not  the  sting  of  words. 

Enter  OzRO. 

Oran,  Ilah  !   Ozro.     A  slave  enlarged  is  no  grate- 
ful sight  to  his  old  master.  \_Jiiide. 
i   Ozro.  I  com.e,  my  brother,  to  end  your  sufferings. 
gt^.  Aman,  Welcome !   You  know  them  to  be  more  than 
man  can  bear. 

Oran»  Vile  intruder!  are  you  30  soon  intoxicated 
with  your  liberty  ?  Quick,  flee  this  place  ;  or  stronger 
chains,  than  bound  you  here  before,  shall  sober  you 
again. 

Ozro.  Talk  not  of  chains !  but  rather  learn  to 
clread  the  hand,  on  which  they  have  been  bound.  I 
come  to  execute  the  orders  of  your  lord  and  master  ; 
not  to  be  frightened  with  your  threats. .  Amandar's 
injuries  have  reached  the.  ears  of  the  Bashav*  ;  and  I 
am  sent 

Oran.  Talc-bearing  renegade !  Well,  I  shall  leara 
to  husband  my  own  property,  and  give  up  no  more 
•slaves  for  Hamet's  counsellors ►    Attend  your  duty  ! 

[To  Amanddi- ,  striking  him. 

Ozro.  Repeat  that  blow,  and  it  shall  cost  you  dear. 

Oran.  Caitiff!  begone,  from  hence;  or  even  the. 
Bashav/  shall  not  defend  you  from  my  indignation.. 
Quick,  leave  my  sight ! 

Ozro.  Not  while  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  ex- 
ercise your  tyramiy  over  my  brother.  But  yesterday, 
you  promised  to  sell  Amandar  for  this  sum  :  here  it  is, 
ready  counted  to  your  Lands.     I  demand  him  of  you. 

Oran,  One  half  this  sum  would  have  bought  him 
yesterday.  Ix  is  my  present  choice  to  sacrifice  my 
property  for  my  revenge.  I  v/ill  double  his  task  and 
shorten  his  allowance,  till  his  pride  is  reduced,  and  h6 
becomes  more  profitable,  by  additional  severity.  This 
is  my  promise  to-day  ;  take  it  for  your  solace. 


104  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Gzro,  Monster !  would  you  forever  feast  your  soul 
on  the  miseries  of  the  unfortunate  ?  Your  word  is 
passed  ;  recal  it  at  the  peril  of  your  life.  There  is  your 
money.   [FHnging  it  at  his  ■fid.']    Aniandar  is 

Gran.  VVlien  foreign  ruiiians,  who  ought  to  wear 
the  chains  of  bondage,  are  armed  with  swords,  all 
right  is  lost:  our  property  is  given  to  the  winds. 
Were  it  not  for  what  weak  heads,  and  sickly  hearts 
call  justice,  I'd  feast  my  dogs  upon  your  flesh. 

Oz/'o,  Go  rent  your  railings  to  the  savage  beasts, 
that  prey  on  one  another.  If  you  love  the  law  that 
sanctions  cruelty,  they  are  your  lit  associates.  Aman- 
dar,  you  ai-e  once  more  restored  to  liberty  and  life. 
iCuiting  off  his  bands  with  his  sworcL] 

lExeunt  Amandar  and  Ozro, 

Oran,  [JhkingMsmoneyJ]  These  high-bred  fel- 
lows make  but  poor  slaves.  'Tis  well  to  shift  them  olf 
at  any  rate.  I  will  take  care  hbw^  i  lay  out  my  money 
for  the  future.  [Exit, 

Scene  II. 

The  Highway, 

Ozro  and  Amandar. 

Aman,  Am  I  deluded  by  a  dream?  or  is  this  real  ? 
What  angel  eye  of  pity  has  glanced  upon  us  ? 

Ozro,  1  would  not  interrupt  thy  bliss,  nor  stir  the, 
dregs,  which  the  fair  su"cface  of  this  draught  conceals, 
Bui  fortune  seems  to  make  our  happiness  her  sport. 

Aman,  Has  not  the  Bashaw  purchased  our  freedom  ? 
what  are  the  conditions  ? 

Ozro.  That  is  for  time  or  wild  conjecture  to  deter- 
mine.    We  must  deliberate  what  course  to  tal^e.  • 

Aman.  What  dost  thou  say  ?  let  me  hear  the  worst. 

Ozro.  You  know  the  circumstances  of  my  liberation. 
All  had  the  appearance  of  affability  and  pity  in  the  Ba- 
shaw. He  questioned  particularly  concerning  our  sit- 
uation, and  seemed  moved  with  the  account  I  gave. 
I  informed  him,  our  brother  was  daily  expected  with 
the  gleanings  of  an  unfortunate  father's  interest  to  re- 

-    deem 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     lOo 

deem  as  from  our  chains,  and  restm'c  us  to  a  disconso- 
late family.  He  turned  aside,  as  though  some  sudden 
emotion  had  seized  his  mind;  then  exclaimed, 
"  They  shall  be  mine  !*'  The  money  was  paid  for  your 
ransom,  and  committed  to  mc.  We  ai-e  considered  as 
his  property. 

Aman.  What  then  creates  suspicion  J  This  iavour 
^as  soiue  claim  upon  our  gratitude.  If  we  must  err, 
let  it  be  on  the  side  of  honor. 

Ozro,  So  thought  I,  Amandar.  These  were  the 
impressions  of  the  moment.  But  avarice  often  assumes 
the  appearance  of  generosity  :  and  malice,  to  make_its 
prey  more  sure,  puis  on  the  guise  q(  pity.  If  ihe  Ba- 
^aw's  motive  were  our  happiness,  all,  but  my  freedom, 
I  would  pledge  to  pay  the  debt  of  gratitude.  But  I 
would  sooner  seek  the  lion*s  den,  or  trust  the  mercy  of 
a  tiger,  than  commit  myself  to  a  mercenary  Turk.  A 
father's  fortune  well  may  tempt  the  hypocritic  show 
®f  kindness  to  his  sons. 

Aman,  This  thought  gives  weight  to  your  suspicion. 
Are  our  misfortunes  then  the  object  of  base  specula- 
tion ?  This  well  becomes  the  dignity  of  rulers  ;  the 
konor  of  the  prime  magistrate  of  Tunis  !  To  seek  us 
Qut,  like  brutes,  to  buy  and  sell,  and  fill  his  coffers  on 
the  ruins  of  our  family.  But  sta}-.  Is  there  no  room 
;for  charity?  Tunis,  of  all  the  states  of  Barbary,  is 
'famed  for  its  refinement.  Every  Turk  is  not  an  Oran. 
'I  think  I  have  heard  the  Bashaw  noted  for  his  humanity. 

Ozro,  That  ruler  has  but  an  ill  title  to  humanity, 
who  suffers  his  subjects  to  tratlic  in  the  dearest  rights 
of  man,  and  shares  himself  the  execrated  commerce. 

Aman.  True,  my  brother.  But  let  us  remember 
our  native  Venice.  W^  have  seen  the  Turk  sold  there 
in  open  market,  and  exposed  to  all  the  indignities 
.which  we  have  borne  with  Oran.  Nay  more;  we 
jnay  come  nearer  home,  and  spread  tlie  blush  on  our 
own  faces.  We  both  have  heard  the  story  of  the 
grateful  Turk,  who,  by  the  intercession  of  Francisco, 
was  twice  released  fiom  servitude.     lie  l^ad  a  noble 

soul, 


106  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

soial,  a  feeling  heart.  Though  his  virtues  were  discov- 
ered, and  fmaily  rewarded  by  onr  father,  we  may  blush 
that  they  were  so  long  unheeded  by  our  countrymen, 
and  he  suffered  to  languish  in  ignominious  bondage. 

Ozro,  Your  words  have  weight.  For  the  sake  of 
this  noble  captive,  I  will  take  part  of  my  censure  from 
the  Turks,  and  spare  it  for  my  countrymen.  Thouiih 
this  was  done  before  my  memory,  the  story  paints  His 
virtues  to  my  mind ;  and  had  I  no  other  claim,  I  would 
Ciall  Francisco  brother  for  this  deed. 

Aman,  [After  a  pame,}  Can  it  he  !  no  j  'tis  too 
much  to  think  of. 

Ozro.  What,  Amandar  ? 

Aman,  A  thought  has  struck  my  mkd.  Help  to 
confirm,  or  to  coiifute  it. 

Enter  Guards  ahruplly* 

^    Ozro,  [Drawing,']  Who  is  here  !  Stand  oif! 

[Guards  draztr, 

1st,  Guard,  But  look,  i»y  lads !  you  see  you  are 
oiitmanned.     We  are  more  than  two  to  one. 

Ozro.  Then  keep  your  distance,  and  let  us  know 
your  bu  *ness:  else,  were  you  ten  to  one,  Pd  make 
your  number  less. 

\st.  Guard,  As  io  our  business,  we  are  obliged  to  ' 
let  you  know  it :  or  I  believe  your  swords  v/ould  not4 
fi'ightcn  us  to  it.     It  is  to  carry  you  to  the  Bashaw,      f 

Ozrg,  On  what' conditions  must  we  go  ? 

\st.  Guard,  As  to  that,  we  shall  not  be  nice.  We 
have  no  cavalry,  you  see  ;  so  you  must  be  content  to 
mnrch  on  foot.  You  may  take  the  ivo^^i,  or  centre, 
as  sujts  you  best.  But  we  shallnot  trust  you  in  the 
rear,  if  you  show  a  disposition  to  desert  us ;  and,  if 
you  are  inclined 'to  be  hostile,  we  must  secure  that 
sword.  ?^  -'• 

Ozro,  I  ask  the  terms  on  which  we  are  to  go;  as 
slaves  or  freemen  ? ' 

\st.  Guard.  We  don't  wish  to  take  the  trouble  to 
bind  you.     U  you  are  not  free  to  go,  we  must  quicken 

your 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.    107 

your  march  with  the  point  of  our  swords.     Our  orders 
are  to  return  immediately. 

Ozro,  Keep  us  no  longer  in  suspense.  We  now  are 
free ;  and 

Ist,  Guard,  As  to  that,  I  believe  you  are  a  little 
mistaken.  The  Bashaw  has  bought  you  both,  and  paid 
for  you ;  and  we  shall  look  better  to  his  interest  than 
to  lose  you  for  nothing  ^  d'ye  sec  ?  Come  ;  march ! 

.  Ozro,  What  is  the  paltry  price,  compared  with 
years  of  misery  ?  Perhaps  you  know  our  destiny.  If 
we're  for  sale  again,  tell  him,  we  give  the  terms.  This 
place  shall  be  the  fair,  and  life  the  price. 

1st,  Guard,  I  tell  you  again,  we  are  not  easily 
frighted.  But  I  see  you  are  afraid  of  getting  into 
Oran's  hands  again,  If  you  choose  to  be  obstinate,  we 
could  easily  slice  you  in  pieces,  and  carry  you  on  the 
points  of  our  swords.  But  we  don't  wish  to  spoil  you 
in  such  a  manner.  Besides,  our  master  keeps  no  cut- 
throats. Our  orders  were  to  carry  you  safe  to  the 
Bashaw,  and  neither  hurt  you  ourselves,  nor  L?t  any 
body  else.  You  may  wonder  at  this  extraordinary 
honor,  and  so  do  we.  But  he  takes  a  liking  to  Chris- 
tians, and  is  very  often  doing  them  a  good  turn.  I 
fancy  something  uncommon  is  going  forward  to-day 
by  this  manoeuvre.  Perhaps  he  is  inclined  to  sin  a 
little  in  your  own  way,  by  drinking  a  few  bottles  of 
Tvine  with  you. 

Ozro,  [To  Amandar,']  Their  honest  frankness  quite 
unarms  me.  I  hope  my- suspicions  have  been  ground- 
less. 

Aman,  Let  us  trust  ourselves  to  their  care.  I  am 
anxious  to  know  the  sequej. 

Scene  III. 

Harrietts  House, 

Hamet,    [Solus, ^    The    grateful    day  returns,   that 
brings  to  mind  my  generous  benefactors.     The  birth- 
day 


108  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

day  of  my  happiness,  my  fortune,  and  my  honor.     Le^;( 

it  be  sacred  to  gratitude,  and  devoted  to  the  sons  of  i 

sorrow.  | 

Enter  Officer.  ^  V 

^  Officer,  Noble  Sir,   the  sale  of  prisoners  begks  in| 

half  an  hour.     Is  it  your  pleasure  to  attend  the  auc-^ 

tion  ?  ^        '^ 

H(wiet,  His,     Have  tncm  upon  the  spot,  and  see 

that  they  are  treated  with  humanity.  [Exit  Officer, 

Ill-fated  men !    their  lot  is.  miserable  indeed;      'Twere 

almost  just  to  rise  above  the  laws,  and  give  them  all 

their  freedom.  [^^"^'^  Hamet. 

Scene  IV. 

The  street  in  Tunis. 
Enter  Cri-eu,  ringing  his  hell. 
At  half  an  hour  from  this  time  !  will  be  sold  at 
public  auction !  to  the  highest  bidder  !  prisoners  of 
all  colours  !  sorts  and  sizes  !  lately  captured  !  on  the 
Mediterranean  !  and  brought  fresh  into  port !  warrant 
ed  free  from  sickness,  and  wounds  !  also,  a  considera. 
ble  number!  a  litde  damaged!  by  musket  shot! 
and  cannon  balls !  and  careless  handling,  with  lon| 
knives  and  broad  swords  !  and  for  want  of  wholesome 
Tilr  !  on  easy  terms  for  the  purchaser.  [Exit  One 


'\ 


ACT  II. 


\ 


Scene  I. 
Oran  walking  to  the  Fair, 
Oran,  [Solus,]  Yes,  he  who  frees  a  slave,  arms  an 
assassin.  The  Bashaw  may  learn  this  to  his  sorrow.  Lf 
him  look  to  that.  He  has  given  a  high  price  for  stocl 
that  I  should  have  been  glad  to  turn  upon  his  hand? 
The  money  will  purchase  tv/o  for  one.  Gorton's  an< 
Zanga's  freight  of  prisoners  will  almost  glut  the  mai' 

lie' 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1©0 

ket.  The  Bashaw  may  be  as  ostentatious  as  he  pleases 
of  his  boyish  pity:  thank  fortune,  I  am  not  so  tender- 
hearted. No :  dominion  is  the  right  of  man.  The 
love  of  power  is  planted  in  his  nature.  But  all  men 
can't  be  kings.  If  there  are  lords,  there  must  be  slaves. 
And  what  must  be  is  right.  Let  moralizers  murmur 
at  the  doctrine  :  their  arguments  are  slender  threads ; 
feeble  as  those,  who  spin  them  out  from  lovers'  dreams, 
and  children's  notions.  What  is  justice  without  power  ? 
The  slave's  ideal  friend;  whom  he  would  wish  to 
break  his  chains  ;  on  whose  credit,  he  would  establish 
universal  government;  then  dissolve  connexion,  and 
shut  his  partner  up  in  prison.  [Exit  Oran* 

ScEBfE    II. 

77ie  fair,  a  large  square. 
Enter   Officer,   zoith  a   drawn   sword;    Zanga   and 
Gorton,   with  swords,  followed   by  prisoners  pin" 
ioned;     Sailors    in    the    rear;    Auctioneer,    ^c, 
Sharp,  a  negro,  standing  by  Gorton, 

Officer  bringing  forward  sick  and  loounded, 
.Auctioneer,     Here,  gentlemen,  is  a  lot  we  shall  not 
differ  about.     For  the  sake  of  dispatch,  we  will  put  up 
all  the  fragments  together.     Here  are  a  number  v.ith 
broken-legs,  arms,  <&z;c.  and  a  number  more  with  mortal 
wounds,  that  may  get  well,  or  may  not.     That  is  your 
risk  ;  I  shall  not  warrant  them.     Upwards  of  a  dozen : 
count  for  yourselves.     Who  bids  ? 
Enter  Hamet,  afid  attendants  ;  silence  observed,  and  all 
pay  him  obeisance. 
Sharp,     Dat  a  man,  a  planter,  masser  Gorton. 

[To  Gorton, 
Auct,     Examine  for  yourselves  :  who  bids  ?  ^ 
Oran,     Four  hundred  sequins  for  the  whole, 
Auct,     That  is  scarce  the  price  of  one  good  able- 
bodied  slave. 

Oran,     They  will  not  do  me  half  ihe  service  at  pres- 
ent.    The  greater  part  of  them  areMK)t  able  to  cook 
K  .  their 


no  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  \ 

their  own  food ;  much  less  to  earn  it.     Yet  they  must ' 
be  fed;  or  they  will  die  on  my  hands,  you  know. 
And  a  sick  or  dead  slave  is  the  very  worst  of  dead 
stock.     I'll  give  no  more.  ^ 

Harriet,  These  unfortunate  men  are  the  objects  of 
compassion,  not  of  unfeeling  sarcasm.  Raise  their 
price  to  five  hundred,  and  charge  them'to  my  account. 
Servants,  see  them  removed  to  the  hospital.  Let  a 
surgeon  be  employed  to  heal  their  wounds,  and  restore 
them  to  health.     [Prisoners  bowing  respectfully,']  i 

[Exewit  servants  and  prisoners^ 

Sharp,  Dat  a  goo(^lanter,  masser  Gorton.    He  goo(|| 
to  white  man  ;  an  be  ne  good  to  poor  negur  man  too  ?  i 

Officer  bringing  forward  a  number,  M 

Auct,     Here  are  a  parcel  of  lads  of  the  first  quality  |'  ■ 
superfine  ;  the  sons  of  noblemen.     Their  relations  will 
give  their  weight  in  gold  to  redeem  them. 

\st.  Purchaser,  And  their  country,  twice  their 
weight,  rather  than  have  them  return. 

Auct,  Now  is  the  time  to  make  your  fortunes* 
Who  bids  ? 

Zanga,  [To  G0rton,'\  These,  I  suppose,  arc  your 
champions,  that  took  shelter  in  the  hold,  with  their  sea^ 
faring  brethren,  the  rats,  when  you  fought  them  ? 

Gorton,     The  same. 

Auct,     One  !  two !  three  !  Just  going  for — nothings 

1st,  Purchaser,  Precisely  what  they  are  valued  at, 
at  home.  Yyou  know,  captains,  these  men  of  the  femi- 
nine gender,  don't  pass  very  curre/it  v/ith  us.  You' 
would  do  well  to  exchange  them  for  ballast,  or  fresb 
water*  I  Will  giye  you  one  hundred  sequins  a  piece 
for  them.  j 

Gordon,  Strike  ihem  off!  It  is  cheaper  buying  men 
than  raiding  them  al  this  rate.  One,  two,  three,  four, 
five^of  them.'     ^^^fT  ^^^^  hatchway  ! 

[I^ceutxt  1st,  Purchaser  and  prisoners^ 
0-FjiL?IMLfcn^?no-  forward  three  others. 

Auct,     Jlcr^t/tj^vce  stout,  able-bodied  fellows  fo 
■•'ou  ;  well  made  ™  labour.     Who  bids  ?  Sharpi 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  Ill 

Sharp,  Dat  a  man  my  masser.  [Pointing  to  Kidnap, 

2d,  Purchaser,  Mere  bladders  filled  with  wine. 
Our  labour  and  climate  will  blast  them  like  mushrooms. 

3d,  Purchaser.  Let  me  look  at  their  hatids  ;  they 
are  the  index  of  the  slave.  A  good  hard  hand  is  worth, 
more  than  a  dozen  bloated  cheeks  and  barrel  bodies. 
Let  me  see  how  they  are  put  together. 

[Shaking  them  by  the  shoulders. 

Kidnap,  Stand  off!  base  ruffian, 

[Officer  strikes  him. 

Sharp,  Dat  larn  you  sti^ike  poor  negur.  Me  wish 
he  killa  you  !  [Aside 

Kidnap,  Black  imp !  be  silent^ 

Officer,  This  fellow  is  a  rare  piec^,  I'll  assure  you. 
Rather  mettlesome  at  present.  Discipline  him  freely 
with  a  whip  for  several  weeks,  and  he  will  be  as 
patient  as  a  Dutch  horse. 

^Kidnap,  Severe  reverse  !  Now,  Africans,  I  learn  to 
pity  you,  [Asidcp 

.    3d,  Purchaser,  What  does  he  say  ? 

Officer,  I  fancy  he  wishes  to  be  excused  from 
reading  the  new  leaf  we  are  turning  over  for  him* 
His  dreams  have  been  very  much  inclined  to  tattle, 
.since  he  has  been  in  prison.  If  I  may  judge  from 
them,  he  has  been  a  wholesale  dealer  in  slaves  himself ; 
and  is  just  beginning  the  hard  lesson  of  repentance. 

Gorton,  Is  this  the  man,  who  entertained  you  so 
agreeably  in  his  sleep  ?  I  should  suppose  he  might  afford 
a  deal  of  amusement  when  awake. 

Officer,  He  was  in  a  very  companionable  mood  last 
night.  He  must  have  thought  himself  at  home  :  poor 
man,  I  am  almost  sorry  for  his  delusion.  In  his  so- 
cial glee,  he  ordered  six  dozen  of  port,  gave  Liberty 
and  Independence  for  a  toast,  sung  an  ode  to  F'reedom  ; 
and  after  fancying  he  had  kicked  over  the  tables,  broken 
all  the  glasses,  and  lay  helpless  on  the  floor,  gave  or- 
ders, attended  by  a  volley  of  oaths,  to  have  fifty  of 
his  slaves  whipped  thirty  stripes  each,  for  singing  a 
lilierty-safic^  in  ^rho  to  hi^  own  •  and  six  more  to  be 

liung 


112  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

hung  up  by  the  heels  for  petitioning  him  for  a  draught 
of  milk  and  water,  while  he  was  revelling  Avith  his 
drunken  companions.  Then  waked  up,  and  exclaimed, 
O  happy  America !  farewell  forever !  Justice  I  thou 
hast  overtaken  me  at  last. 

^uct.  His  dreams  will  be  a  cash  article.  Who  bids  ? 

3^.  Purchaser,  Two  hundred  se<-|uins  a  piece,  for 
the  three. 

Hamet,  Officer,  forward  that  man  ;  I  wish  to  speak 
with  him.  [GJpxer  leads  Kidnap  to  Hamet, 

From  whence  are  you  ?  [7b  Kidnap, 

Kidnap.  From  North  America. 

Hamet,  The  boasted  land  of  liberty  ?        '  | 

Kidnap,  None  more  so. 

Hamet.  Then  does  she  realize  those  sceues  your 
iiincy  paints,  and  which  your  tongue  describes,  when 
cff  its  guard  ? 

Kidnap,  Take  second-handed  dreams  for  evidenc 
a-nd  judge  as  you  please  of  me,  or  my  country. 

Hamet,  Your  arrogance  is  evidence  against  you, 
Stand  there  in  silence.  Bring  here  that  African.  [7*^ 
the  Officer,  [Officer  leads  forward  Shar^ 

Was  that  man  your  master  ? 

Sharp,  Yes  a  masser. 

Hamet,  Is  he  a  kind  master  ?  do  you  wish  to  liv4 
with  him  ? 

Sharp,  No,   masser    planter !    he    get    drunk !    I: 
v/hip  me !  he  knock  a  me  down  !  he  stamp  on  a  me 
he  'will  kill  a  me  dead !  No !  no !  let  a  poor  neg 
live  wid  a  you,  masser  planter ;  live  wid  a  masser  o 
cer  ;  wid  a  dat  a  man  ;  or  any  udder  man,  fore  I  go  bad 
America  again;  fore  1  live  wid  a  masser  Kidnap  again; 

Hamet,  Fear  not,  honest  fellow:  nobody  shall  hurtyou. 

Sharp,  Tank  a  you,  masser!  bless  a  you,  good 
masser  planter.  [Boicing, 

Hamet,  [To  Officer.']  Deliver  this  man  to  the  highest 
bidder.  Let  misery  teach  him,  what  he  could  never 
learn  in  affluence,  the  lesson  of  humanity. 

[od.  Purchaser  takes  off  Kidnap  and  the  other  two, 
and  returns  again.^  Coinmon 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  113 

Common  sailors  brovght  forward, 

Auct.  Here  are  robust  fellows  for  you  ;  reduced  to 
discipline  ;  hardened  by  toil ;  proof  against  heat  and 
cold,  wind  and  weather.  Now  is  your  last  opportu- 
n-ity.     Who  bids  ? 

4/A.  Purchaser,  Two  hundred  a  piece  for  the  whole. 

5th,  Purchaser,  Two  hundred  and  fifty. 

Auct,  Two  hundred  and  fifty,  and  going.  Their 
bare  boiies  would  be  worth  half  that  for  skeletons*' 
But  they  are  well  strung  with  nerves,  and  covered 
with  hardy  flesh  :  none  of  your  mushrooms,  grown  up 
in  the  shade.  Look  for  yourselves  :  they  are  almost 
bullet  proof. 

Zanga,  Quite,  you  might  have  said,  or  we  should 
have  made  riddling  sieves  of  them. 

Oran,  Three  hundred  a  piece. 

Auct.  Three  hundred,  and  going.  One!  two! 
three !  [Strikes* 

Zanga.  [To  Oran,'}  I  am  sorry  we  were  obliged  to 
cut  so  many  of  them  in  pieces,  before  we  could  per- 
suade them  to  strike.  The  whole  crew  would  furnish 
a  fine  plantation ;  and  you  might  live  in  the  style  of 
I  West  India  planter.. 

Officer,  Follow  your  master.  [Oran  going ;  slaves 
following,    Oran''s  servants  follow  the  slaves  with  whips, 

Teague,  [Refusing  to  follow.}  Ship-mates,  you 
may  do  as  you  please,  I  should  be  glad  of  your  dear 
company  ;  but,  by  my  shoul,  I  will  enter  no  man's 
ship  by  sea,  or  by  land,  till  I  know  the  conditions,  and 
receive  a  little  advance  pay. 

Oran,  Come  on,  my  lad;  or  my  servants  shall  see 
to  your  advance  pay.  [Servaiit  strikes  him  with  a  whip, 

Teague,  [Bursting  his  pinions,  and  seizing  Oran^s 
servant.}  If  this  is  your  prompt  pay,  by  saint  Pa- 
trick !  you  shall  have  change  in  your  own  coin,  my 
honey  !  D'ye  see !  I  could  tear  your  rigging  before 
and  aft  like  a  hurricane.  [Shaking  him.  Officer  at- 
tempts to  strike  him  with  his  sword ^  other  servants^ 
toith  their  whips, 

K  9  Hamet, 


114  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Harriet,  Forbear !  his  honest  indignation  is  the 
effusion  of  hv.n^ianity.  Let  him  speak  for  himself. 
There  is  something  in  this  ingenuous  tar,  that  moves 
me  to  do  him  a  kindness.  *  [Aside» 

Teague,  I  think,  an't  please  your  honor,  a  poor 
sailor  has  a  hard  time  enough  on't  to  encounter  wind 
and  weather,  hunger  and  thirst,  and  all  the  other 
dangers  of  the  main  sea ;  and  when  rain  and  storms 
have  frowned  on  him  for  several  months,  he  ought  to 
find  a  little  sunshine  in  every  man's  face  ;  and  not  be 
bought  and  sold  like  dumb  beasts  in  the  market.  I 
believe  in  my  shoul,  if  one  were  to  get  rich  in  a  Chris- 
tian country  by  such  a  vile  trade,  the  judgments  of 
Heaven  would  keep  him  poor  as  long  as  he  lived.  Ah, 
and  if  men  were  made  to  be  slaves  and  masters,  why 
was  not  one  man  born  with  a  whip  in  his  hand  and 
gold  spoon  in  his  mouth ;  and  another,  with  a  chain 
on  his  arm,  or  a  fetter  to  his  heel;  aye,  and  without 
a  tongue,  or  a  pair  of  jaws,  so  long  as  one  must  not 
be  allowed  to  use  them  ?  And  if  I  had  known  I  were 
to  live  a  dog's  life  in  this  hard-hearted  country,  as  I 
am  a  Christian,  I  would  have  fought  yc  till  I  died. 
But  look  ye !  all  hands  upon  deck  ;  this  muckle  arm 
of  mine  is  free  ;  and  by  the  blood  of  my  heart,  it  shall 
be  torn  from  my  body,  before  I  will  be  bound  once 
more,  it  shall. 

Ora72*  I  must  leave  that  unmanageable  creature 
ivith  you,  Zanga ;  I  have  had  too  much  to  do  with 
Such  fellows  already. 

Ha.nef,  Trust  him  with  me.  His  are  the  inborn 
virtues  I  admire  :  virtues,  that  ought  to  make  the  ty- 
rant blush  before  him,  and  find  him  friends,  wherever, 
there  are  men. 

Teague,  On  my  honest  word,  I  am  your  honor's 
good  friend  and   servant,  so  long  as  I  live,  let  the 
w^inds  blow  as  they  will.     Yes,  I  will  be  any  man's 
good  friend  and  faithful  servant,  that  Yfill  secure  mM 
liberty  in  the  mean  tim^,  I  wiU.  ■ 

Met, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  115 

Auct.  Here  is  this  honest  negro  lad,  who  has  been 
under  the  benevolent  instruction  of  a  task-master,  and 
converted  to  Christianity  by  lectures  applied  to  the  na- 
ked back  with  a  rope's  end,  or  nine-tail  whip.  lie  is 
bred  to  his  business ;  you  will  find  him  an  excellent 
purchase  j  and  he  can  lose  riothing  by  exchange  of 
masters.     Who  bids  ? 

bth.  Purchaser,     Three  hundred  sequins. 
■  Sd,  Purchaser,'    Four  hundred. 

Officer,     Follow  that  man  ;  he  is  your  master. 

[To  Sharp, 

Sharp,     Yes  a  masscr.     [Boivijig  to  his  new  master, 

5th,  Purchaser,  You  give  too  much.  You  will  raise 
the  price  of  slaves  above  their  profit. 

Sd,  Purchaser,  I  have  my  reasons.  He  is  trained 
to  his  business  :  I  intend  to  put  his  old  master  under 
his  instruction,  that  he  may  occasionally  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  whip-lecture  from  his  fonner  slave,  whom 
he  has  treated  so  kindly. 

5th,  Purchaser,  Perfectly  right,  Sir.  Every  dog 
must  have  his  day.     [Exeunt  3d.  PurcJuiser  and  Sharp, 

Zanga,  [Leading  forward  Francisco,^  This  man  has 
eost  me  dear ;  he  must  command  a  price  accordingly, 

Juct,  Here  is  the  last  purchase  :  who  bids  ? 

5th,  Purchaser,  "What  extraordinary  things  can  this 
fellow  do  ? 

Zanga,  He  can  clip  off  men's  heads  and  arms  with 
an  micommon  slight  of  hand.  Had  it  not  been  for  his 
dexterity  at  this  art,  and  his  loud  acclamations  to  his 
crew,  I  should  not  have  been  repulsed  three  times  from 
their  deck,  with  the  loss  of  half  my  men. 

5th,  Purchaser,  This  is  your  misfortune  ;  not  ouTSt. 
Men  in  your  way  must  run  the  risk  of  losing  an  arm 
and  even  a  head  once  in  a  while.  Courage  is  a  very 
good,irecommendation  for  a  sailor,  or  soldier ;  but  for 
a  slave,  I  would  give  as  much  for  one  of  your  faint- 
hearted cowards,  that  you  find  hid  in  the  hold  in  time 
of  fiction,  as  for  half  a  dozen,  who  will  meet  you  with 
5  pistol  at  your  hea^. 


1I«  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Auct,     What,  does  nobody  bid  ? 

Zanga,  These  are  the  marks  of  gratitude  and  honor 
shown  to  us,  who  expose  our  lives  to  procure  the 
means  of  ease  and  hixury  for  our  countrymen.  My 
men,  whose  wounds  are  witnesses  against  him,  would 
give  a  generous  price  to  satisfy  their  vengeance. 

Francisco,     Detested  ruffian  !  blast  not  the  names  of 
gratitude  and  honor  with  your  breath.     Has  not  my 
life  already  been  enough  exposed?    Then  let  those 
men,   who  wear  the  marks  my  courage  gave,  return 
me  v.'ound  for  wound.     'Tis  not  enough  that  you  pos- 
sess my  father's  fortune  ;  the  effects  of  an  industrious  , 
life,  designed  to  purchase  from  your  barbarous  land,  i 
two  darling   sons  ;    more   than  his  life   to  him ;    and  1 
dearer  than  my  own  to  me.     Their  misery  is  not  suf-  | 
fici-ent.     Myself,  the  only  stay  of  his  declining  years, 
must  be  forever  exiled  from  his  sight.     But  I  can  bear 
the  worst  that  malice  can  invent,   or  tyranny  inflict. 
If  you  have  pity,  spare  it  for  my  father ;  for  my  broth- 
ers :  they  have  slain  none  of  your  friends  ;   none  of 
your  nation.     I   can    endure    my   own   misfortunes : 
theirs  arc  insupportable. 

Hamet,     Magnanimous,     and    dutiful    son !      your 
virtues  shall  be   rewarded  ;  and  your  father's  sorrow 
shall  be  turned  to  joy.     You  say  you  have  two  broth-  , 
ers,    whosi    you  came  to    ransom.     What  are  their- 
names  ?  Perhaps  they  now  are  free. 

Francisco.     Ozro  and  Amandar.  _ 

Harriet,     Your  business  is  accomplished.  They  have  ^ 
their  liberty.     Each  minute  I  expect  them  here. 
.  Francisco,     O  kind  reverse  !  Francisco,  thou  shalt 
be  happy. 

Hamet,  Francisco!  did  he  say?  Good  Heavens! 
Can  it  be  he  !  [Aside.]  Art  thou  Francisco  ? 

Francisco,  That  is  my  father's  name.  I  am  Fran- 
cisco the  younger. 

Hamet,  Thou  art !  O  my  delivering  angel !  Do&t 
thou  know  thy  Hamet  2 

Francisco* 


\ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  IH 

Francisco*     h  cannot  be  t  Sure  Pm  entranced. 

[Looking  earnestly  at  Hamet. 
Hamet,     Come  to  my  arms !  lam  thy  friend,  thy 
Hamct.     [Hamet  rises,     Frwncisco  metis  him  pirdoned. 
Francisco,     Thou  art  the  same  !  the  best  of  men. 

[Embracing* 
Enter  OzRO   and  Amandar  at  a  distance,  attended  by 
guards.     They  advance  slowly,  looking  at  each  other 
and  at  Hamet,  in  suspense, 

Hamet,  [Unloosing  Francisco'' s  pinions,']  Off,  shame- 
iul  bands !  These  ill  become  thee  !  Thy  hands  are 
worthy  of  a  sceptre.  Twice  thou  hast  freed  me  from 
the  chains  of  bondage.  Thus  I,  in  part,  discharge 
the  debt.  [Ozro  and  Amandar  discover  Francisco,  and 
run  to  embrace  him.] 
Ozro,     O  Francisco ! 

Amandar,     My  brother !    [They  embrace  each  other, 
Francisco,     Welcome  to  my  arms  again!  Bounte- 
ous Heaven!  thy  smiles  have  pierced  the  cloud,  and 
changed  the  night  to  day.     Next  to  Heaven,  Hamet 
deserves  our  thanks. 

Ozro  and  Amandar,  As  first  on  earth  he  has  them. 
Hamet,  I  am  the  debtor.  Heaven  has  given  me  a 
grateful  heart ;  but  it  is  to  you,  Francisco,  I  owe  my 
fortune  and  my  honor,  and  have  it  in  my  power  to 
show  my  gratitude.  Had  it  not  been  for  yop,  I  might 
till  now  have  been  a  slave  in  Venice. 

Teague, '  On  my  life,  I  would  live  and  die  here  all 
my  days,  if  ^^^  the  neople  were  like  this  same  good 
liamet/  [Aside, 

Zanga,  Th'^y  sail  o  pleasantly,  I  must  fall  m  with 
tliem  after  all.  (Aside,)  [Takes  a  chest,  containing  the 
money  and  jeive-s  of  Francisco,  and  carries  it  to  him.J 
Good  Sir,  I  huv.?  been  brought  up  to  the  trade  of  fight- 
ins^  ;  this,  you  know,  Sir,  is  not  an  employment  to  soften 
one's  heart.  I  have  generally  been  obliged  to  resist 
the  current  of  compassion  ;  but  it  sets  so  strong  upon 
me  now, !  will  even  follow  its  motion,  as  you  have  been 
pleased  to  lead  the  way.    Here  is  this  man's  money  :  I 

give 


US  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

give  up  my  share  both  in  that  and  him  too ;  and  wish, 
him  and  his  good  friends  a  pleasant  gale  upon  whatever 
course  they  may  steer  through  life. 

Harriet,  This  deed  becomes  thee,  Zanga,  and  shall 
hereafter  be  rewarded. 

Francisco,  Zanga,  thou  hast  my  thanks.  Let  me 
anticipate  the  joyous  hour  when  our  aged  father  shall 
h«ar  the  transactions  of  this  day  ;  and  express  in  his 
name  th?  effusions  of  his  grateful  heart,  when  he  shall 
receive  his  sons  from  you  as  the  author  of  their  second 
existence  ;  their  delivery  from  the  heavy  chains  of 
bondage.  [To  Hamet, 

Hamet,  By  untoward  fortune,  my  father  and  my- 
self were  slaves  in  Venice.  By  your  intercession  I  was 
emancipated.  I  cheerfully  procured  the  freedom  of 
a  declining  parent  at  the  expense  of  my  own.  The 
thought  of  relieving  him  from  a  burden,  which  his 
tottering  age  was  unable  to  support,  sweetened  my 
toil,  and  made  that  servitude  a  pleasure,  which  other- 
wise had  been  intolerable.  But  the  generosity  of  your 
family  exceeded  what  I  dared  to  hope.  You  gratui- 
tously restored  me  to  liberty  a  second  time.  This  was 
the  morning  of  my  prosperity,  the  birth-day  of  my 
happiness.  It  is  by  your  means,  I  have  it  in  my  power 
thus  to  acknowledge  and  discharge  a  sacred  debt,  the 
debt  of  gratitude.- 

Ozro,  This  day  more  than  compensates  for  our  past 
misfGrtunes.. 

Amandar,  Henceforth  we  will  celebrate  its  anni- 
versary in  grateful  remembrance  of  our  benefactor. 

Hamet,  Generous  brothers,  enjoy  your  fortune,  and 
let  your  father  participate  your  happiness.  A  ship  shall, 
be  prepared  to  convey  you  to  your  native  land,  and 
restore  you  to  your  friends.  Let  it  be  remembered, 
there  is  no  luxury  so  exquisite  as  the  exercise  of  hu- 
manity, and  no  post  50  honorable  as  his,  who  defends 
THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  [Exeunt  omnes. 

Conclusion 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  119 


Conclusion  of  a  celebrated  Speech  of  Mr.  Pitt, 
IN  1770,  IN  Support  of  a  Motion  made  in  Par- 
liament, TO  request  the  King  to  lay  before 
THAT  Body  all  the  Papers,  relative  to  cer^ 
tain  Depredations  of  the  Spaniards,  and 
likewise,  to  a  Treaty  which  he  was  then  ne* 
gociating  with  spain. 

My  Lords, 

I  HAVE  taken  a  wide  circuit,  and  trespassed,  I  feafj 
too  long  upon  your  patience.  Yet  I  cannot  con- 
clude without  endeavouring  to  bring  home  your 
thoughts  to  an  object  more  immediately  interesting  to 
us,  than  any  I  have  yet  considered  :  I  mean  the  in- 
ternal condition  of  this  country.  We  may  look  abroad 
for  wealth,  or  triumphs,  oi*  luxury ;  but  England, 
my  lords,  is  the  main  stay,  the  last  resort  of  the 
whole  empire.  To  this  point,  every  scheme  of  policy, 
whether  foreign  or  domestic,  should  ultimately  refer. 

Have  any  measures  been  taken  to  satisfy,  or  to 
unite  the  people  ?  Are  the  grievances  they  have  so 
long  complained  of  removed  ?  or  do  they  stand  not 
only  unredressed,  but  aggravated  ?  Is  the  right  of  free 
election  restored  to  the  elective  body  f  My  lords,  I 
myself  am  one  of  the  people.  I  esteem  that  security 
and  independence,  which  is  the  original  birthright  of 
an  Englishman,  far  beyond  the  privileges,  however 
splendid,  which  are  annexed  to  the  peerage.  I  my- 
self am  by  birth  an  English  elector,  and  join  with 
the  freeholders  of  England  as  in  a  common  cause. 
i3elieve  me,  my  lords,  we  mistake  our  real  interest  as 
much  as  our  duty,  when  we  separate  ourselves  from 
the  mass  of  the  people, 

,  Csm  it  be  expected  that  Englishmen  will  unite  heart- 
ily in  defence  of  a  government,  by  which  they  feel  them- 
selves insulted  and  oppressed  ?  Restore  them  to  their 

.  rights ; 


120  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

rights  ;  that  is  the  true  way  to  make  them  unanimous. 
It  is  not  a  ceremonious  recommenclatioii  from  the  thi:one, 
that  can  bringback  peace  and  harmony  to  a  discontent- 
ed people.  That  insipid  annual  opiate  has  been  ad- 
ministered so  long,  that  it  has  lost  its  effect.  Some- 
thing substantial,  something  effectual  must  be  done. 

The  public-  credit  of  the  nation  stands  next  in  degree 
to  the  rights  of  the  constitution;  it  calls  loudly  for  the^ 
interposition  of  Parliament.  There  is  a  set  of  nien,l 
my  lords,  in  the  cit^  of  London,  who  are  known  to 
live  in  riot  and  luxury,  upon  the  plunder  of  the  igno- 
rant, the  innocent,  the  helpless  ;  upon  that  part  of  the 
community,  which  stands  most  in  need  of,  and  best  de- 
serves the  care  and  protection  of  the  legislature.  To 
me,  my  lords,  whether  they  be  miserable  jobbers 
of  Exchange  Alley,  or  the  lofty  Asiatic  plunderers  of 
Leadenhall-street,  they  are  all  equally  detestable.  I 
care  but  little  whether  a  man  walks  on  foot.  Or  is 
drawn  by  eight  or  six  horses.  If  his  luxury  be  sup- 
ported by  the  plunder  of  his  country,  I  despise  and 
detest  him. 

My  lords,  while  I  had  the  honor  Of  serving  his  Maj- 
esty, I  never  ventured  to  look  at  the  treasury  but  at  | 
a  distance  ;  it  is  a  business  I  am  unfit  for,  and  to  which* 
I  never  could  have  submitted.     The  little  I  know  of 
it  has  not  served  to  raise  my  opinion  of  what  is  vul-l 
garly  called  the  monied  interest ;  I  mean  that  blood^* 
sucker,   that  muckworm,  which  calls  itself  the  frienctt 
of  government :  that  pretends  to  serve  this  or  that  ad-> 
ministration,  and  may  be  purchased,  on  the  same  terms, 
by  any  administration ;  that  advances  money  to  gov- 
ernment, and  takes  special  care  of  its  own  emolunients* 
I  hope,  my  lords,  that  nothing  I  have  said  will  be 
understood  to  extend  to  the  honest,  industrious  trades- 
man, who  holds  the  middle  rank,   and  has  given  re- 
peated proofs,  that  he  prefers  law  and  liberty  to  gold. 
I  love  that  class  of  men.     Much  less  would  I  be  thought 
to  reflect  upon  the  fair  merchant,  whose  liberal  com- 
merce 


TIJE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  l!21 

luerce  is  the  prime  source  of  national  wealth.  I  esteem 
his  occupation,  and  respect  his  character. 

My  lords,  if  the  general  representation,  which  I 
have  had  the  honor  to  lay  before  you,  of  the  situation 
of  public  affairs,  has  in  any  measure  engaged  your  at- 
tention, your  lordships,  I  am  sure,  will  agree  with  me, 
that  the  season  calls  for  more  than  common  prudence 
and  vigour  in  the  direction  of  your  councils.  The  dif- 
ficulty of  the  crisis  demands  a  wise,  a  firm,  and  a  pop- 
ular administration.  The  dishonorable  traffic  of  pieces 
has  engaged  us  too  long.  Upon  this  subject,  my  lords, 
I  speak  without  interest  or  enmity.  I  have  no  personal 
objection  to  any  of  the  king's  servants.  I  shall  never 
be  minister;  certainly,  not  without  full  power  to  cut 
away  all  the  rotten  branches  of  government.  Yet,  un- 
concerned as  I  truly  am  for  myself,  I  cannot  avoid  see- 
ing some  capital  errors  in  the  distribution  of  the  royal 
favour. 

I  know  I  shall  be  accused  of  attempting  to  revive 
distinctions.  My  lords,  if  it  were  possible,  T  would 
abolish  all  distinctions.  I  would  not  wish  the  favours 
of  the  crown  to  ilow  invariably  in  one  channel.  But 
there  are  some  distinctions  which  are  inherent  in  the 
j}ature  of  things.  There  is  a  distinction  between  right 
and  wrcrng  ;  between  whig  and  tory. 

When  I  speak  of  an  administration,  such  as  the  ne- 
cessity of  the  season  calls  for,  my  views  are  large  and 
comprehensive,  ft  must  be  popular,  that  it  may  begin 
with  reputation.  It  must  be  strong  within  itself,  that  it 
may  proceed  with  vigour  and  decision.  An  adminis- 
tration, formed  upon  an  exclusive  system  of  family  con- 
nexions, or  private  friendships,  cannot,  I  am  convinced, 
be  long  supported  in  this  country. 

I  shall  trouble  your  lordships  with  but  a  few  words 
more.  His  Majesty  tells  us  in  his  speech,  that  he  will 
c^Uupon  us  for  our  advice,  if  it  should  be  necessary  in 
the  farther  progress  of  this  affair.  It  is  not  easy  to  say 
whether  or  not  the  ministry  are  serious  in  this  decla- 
ration ;  nor  what  is  meant  by  the  progress  of  an  affair, 
L  which 


122  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


\ 


which  rests  upon  one  fixed  point.  Hitherto  we  have| 
not  been  called  upon.  But  though  wc  are  not  consulted^  |' 
it  is  our  right  and  duty,  as  the  king's  great  hereditary " 
council,  to  offer  him  our  advice.  The  papers,  men- 
tioned in  the  noble  Duke's  motion,  will  enable  us  to 
form  a  just  and  accurate  opinion  of  the  conduct  of  his 
Majesty's  servants,  though  not  of  the  actual  state  of 
their  honorable  negociations. 

The  ministry,  too,  seem  to  .want  advice  upon  some 
points,  in  which  their  own  safety  is  immediately  con- 
cerned. They  are  now  balancing  between  a  war, 
which  they  ought  to  have  foreseen,  but  for  which 
they  have  made  no  provision,  and  an  ignominious  com- 
promise. Let  me  warn  them  of  their  danger.  If  they 
are  forced  into  a  war,  they  stand  it  at  the  hazard  of 
their  heads.  If,  by  an  ignominious  compromise,  they 
should  stain  the  honor  of  the  crown,  or  sacrifice  the 
rights  of  the  people,  let  them  look  to  their  consciences, 
and  consider  whether  th.ey  will  be  able  to  ^valk  the 
streets  in  safety. 

Socrates'  Defence  before  his  Accusers  and 
Judges. 


I  AM  accused,  of  corrupting  the  youth,  and  of  instill- 
ing dangerous  principles  into  them,,  as  well  in  re- 
gard to  the  worship  of  the  gods,  as  the  rulers  of  gov- 
ernment. Yau  know,  Athenians,  I  never  made  it  my 
profession  to  teach ;  nor  can  envy,  however  violent 
against  me,  reproach  tne  with  having  ever  sold  my  in- 
structions. I  have  an  \mdeniable  evidence  for  me  in 
this  respect,  which  is  my  poverty.  Always  equally 
ready  to  communicate  my  thoughts  either  to  the  rich 
or  poor,  and.  to  give  them  entire  leisure  to  question  or 
ar^swer  me,  I  lend  myself  to  every  one  who  is  desirous 
of  becoming  virtupua;  and  if  amongst  those  who  hear 
me,  there  are  any  who  prove  either  good  or  bad,  nei- 
ther the  virtues  of  the  one,  nor  the  vices  of  the  other, 

to 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     123 

to  whicli  I  have  not  contributed,  are  to  be  ascribed 
to  me. 

My  whole  employment  is  to  persuade  tlie  young 
and  old  against  too  much  love  for  the  body,  for  riches, 
and  all  other  precarious  things  of  whatsoever  nature 
they  be,  and  against  too  little  regard  for  the  soul,  which 
ought  to  be  the  object  of  their  affection.  For  I  inces-» 
santly  urge  to  you,  that  virtue  does  not  proceed  frofn 
riches,  but  on  the  contrary,  riches  from  virtue  ;  and  that 
all  the  other  goods  of  human  life,  os  well  })ublic  as 
private,  have  their  source  in  the  same  principle. 

If  to  speak  in  this  manner  be  to  corrupt  youth,.  I 
confess,  Athenians,  that  I  am  guilty,  ar.d  deserve  to  be 
punished,  if  what  I  say  be  not  true,  it  is  most  easy 
to  convict  me  of  my  falsehood.  I  see  here  a  great 
number  of  my  disciples :  they  Irave  only  to  appear. 
But  }7erhaps  the  reserve  and  considei-ation  for  a  rnaster, 
who  has  instructed  theln,  will  prevent  them  from  de- 
claring against  me  :  at  least  their  fathers,  brothers,  and 
uncles  cannot,  as  goiod  relations  And  good  citizens,  dis- 
pense with  their  not  staiJJing  forth  to  demand  ven- 
geance sgainst  the  corrupter  of  their  sons,  brothers, 
and  nephews.  But  these  are  the  j>ersons  who  take 
upon  them  my  defence,  and  interest  themselves  iu  the 
success  of  my  cause. 

Pass  on  me  what  sentence  you  please,  Athetiians ; 
but  I  can  neither  repent  nor  change  my  conduct.  I 
must  not  abandon  or  suspend  a  function,  which  God 
himself  has  imposed  On  me,  since  he  has  charged  me 
with  the  care  of  instructing  my  fellow-citizens.  If, 
after  having  faithfully  kept  all  the  ports,  wherein  I 
was  placed  by  our  generals,  the  fear  of  death  should 
at  this  time  make  me  abandon  that  in  which  the  Divine 
Providence  has  placed  me,  by  commanding  me  to  pass 
my  life  in  the  study  of  philosophy,  for  the  instruction 
of  myself  and  others ;  this  would  be  a  most  criminal 
desertion  indeed,  arid  make  me  highly  worth;  of  being 
cited  before  this  tribunal,  as  an  impious  man  who  docs 
not  believe  the  gods. 

Should 


124     THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Should  you  resolve  to  acquit  me  for  the  future,  i 
should  not  hesitate  to  make  answer,  Athenians,  I  honor 
and  love  you ;  bat  I  shall  choose  rather  to  obey  God 
tlian  you  ;  and  to  my  latest  breath  shall  never  renounce 
my  philosophy,  nor  cease  to  exhort  and  reprove  you 
according  to  my  custom.  1  am  reproached  with  abject 
fear  and  meanness  of  spirit,  for  being  so  busy  in  im*, 
parting  my  advice  to  every  one  in  private,  and  fo^ 
having  always  avoided  to  be  present  in  your  assemblie^f 
to  give  my  counsels  to  my  country.  I  think  I  have 
J  r;fficicntly  proved  my  courage  and  foi'titude,  both  in 
^he  iield,  where  I  have  borne  amis  with  you,  and  in  the< 
Senate,  when  I  alone,  upon  more  than  one  occasion, 
opposed  the  violent  and  cruel  orders  of  the  thirty  ty- 
rants. What  is  it  then  that  has  prevented  me  from  ap- 
pearing in  your  assemblies  ?  It  is  that  demon,  that 
voice  divine,  which  you  have  so  often  heard  me  men- 
tion, and  Melitus  has  taken  so  much  pains  to  ridicule. 

That  spirit  has  attached  itself  to  me  from  my  infancy ; 
it  is  a  voice,  which  I  never  hear,  but  when  it  would 
prevent  me  from  persisting  in  something  I  have  resolved ; 
for  it  never  exhorts  me  to  undertake  any  thing.  It  is 
the  same  being  that  has  always  opposed  me,  when  1, 
would  have  intermeddled  in  the  afiairs  of  the  republic  A 
and  that  with  the  greatest  reasoo  ;  for  I  should  havd^ 
been  amongst  the  dead  long  ago,  had  I  been  concerned 
in  the  measures  of  the  state,  without  effecting  any  thing 
to  the  advantage  of  myself,  or  our  country. 

Do  not  take  it  ill,  I  beseech  you,  if  I  speak  myl 
thoughts  without  disguise,  and  with  truth  and  freedom.^ 
Every  man  who  would  generously  oppose  a  whole  peo-  | 
pie,  either  amongst  us  or  elsewhere,  and  who  inflexibly ' 
applies  himself  to  prevent  the  violation  of  the  laws,  and 
the  practice  of  iniquity  in  a  government,  will  never  do 
so  long  with  impunity.     It  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
him,  who   would  contend  for  justice,   if  he  has  any 
thoughts  "^living,  to  remain  in  a  private  s'tation,  and 
never  to  have  any  share  in  public  affairs. 

For 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  125 

P'or  the  rest,  Athenians,  if,  in  the  extreme  danger  I 
now  am,  I  do  not  imitate  the  l-iehaviour  of  those,  who, 
upon  less  emcr2;encies,  have  implored  and  supplicated 
their  judges  with  tears,  and  have  brought  forth  their 
children,  relations,  and  friends,  it  is  not  through  pride 
or  obstinacy,  or  any  contempt  for  you  ;  but  solely  for 
your  honor,  and  for  that  of  the  whole  city.  At  my 
age,  and  with  the  reputation,  true  or  false,  which  I 
have,  would  it  be  consistent  for  me,  after  all  the  les- 
sons I  have  given  upon  the  contempt  of  death,  to  be 
afraid  of  it  myself,  and  to  belie  in  my  last  action  all  the 
principles  and  sentiments  of  my  past  life  ? 

But  without  speaking  of  my  fame,  which  I  should 
extremely  injure  by  such  a  conduct,  I  do  not  think  it 
allowable  to  entreat  a  judge,  nor  to  be  absolved  by  sup- 
plications :  he  ought  to  be  persuaded  and  convinced. 
The  judge  does  not  sit  upon  the  bench  to  show  favour 
by  violating  the  laws  ;  but  to  do  justice  in  conforming 
to  them.  Ife  does  not  swear  to  discharge  with  impu- 
nity whom  he  pleases ;  but  to  do  justice  where  it  is 
due.  We  ought  not  therefore  to  accustom  you  to 
perjury,  nor  you  to  suffer  yourselves  to  be  accustomed 
to  it;  for  in  so  doing,:  both  the  one  and  the  other  of 
us  equally  injure  justice  and  religion,  and  both  are 
criminals. 

Do  not  therefore  expect. from  me,  Athenians,  that 
t  should  have  recourse  to  means  which  I  believe  nei- 
ther honest  nor  lawful ;  especially  upon  this  occasion, 
wherein  I  am  accused  of  impiety  by  Melitus.  For, 
if!  should  influence  you  by  my  prayers,  and  thereby 
induce  you  to  violate  your  oaths,  it  would  be  unde- 
niably evident,  that  I  teach  you  not  to  believe  in  the 
gods ;  and  even  in  defending  and  justifying  myself, 
should  furnish  my  adversaries  with  arms  against  m6, 
and  prove  that  I  believe  no  divinity.  But  1  am  very 
far  from  such  wicked  thoughts.  I  am  more  convinced 
of  the  existence  of  God  than  my  accusers;  and  so  con- 
vinced, that  r  abandon  myself  to  God  and  you,  that 
you  may  judge  of  me  as  you  shallf  think  it  best. 

L  2  Dialogue 


i.26  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Dialogue  on  Cowardice  and  Knavery. 

Characters. 
Hector,       An  Officer  cashiered  for  Cowardice* 
Hamburgh,  A  fraudulent  Bankrupt* 
Simon,  A  Pawn-Broker, 

Trustv,       In  Disguise,  acquainted  with  all* 
(Sitting  together  ;  some  with  scgars.) 


SCENE,  A  Tavern* 

Enter  Landlord. 
LaW/o.</.nENTLEMEN    you  all  come  different 
V^   ways  ;  and  I  s'pose  are  strangers  ;  but 
may  be,  you^d  like  to  cut  and  come  again  upon  a  roast 
turkey  with  good  trimmings. 

Trusty,  With  all  my  heart.  I'd  play  knife  and 
fork  even  with  a  cut-throat  over  such  a  supper :  and  I 
dare  say,  you  will  find  none  of  us  cowards  or  bankrupts 
in  that  business. 

Up  start  Hector,  Hamburgh,  and  Simon* 

All  three*    [To  Trusty,']  Do  you  call  me  names.  Sir  t 

Trusty*     Gentlemen,  I  meant  no  personalities. 

Hector,  [Puts  his  hand  to  his  sword,]  But  you  call* 
ed  me  a  coward,  you  rascal. 

Ilamb.  [Takes  off  his  coat,]  You  called  me  a  bank- 
rupt, you  knave. 

Si7no7i*  [Doubles  his  f  St.]  You  called  me  cut-throat, 
you  villain. 

Trusty,  I  told  you  all,  I  meant  no  personalities  j 
but  [To  Hector]  pray  what  are  you  ?        ^      ^ 

Hector*    A  soldier,  to  your  sorrow.  Fear  and  tremble. 

Trusty*     [To  Hamburgh,]     Pray  what  are  you  ? 

Hamb*     A  merchant. 

Trusty*     [To  Simon,]     And  what  a-i'e  you  ? 

Simon,     A  banker* 

,.         ^.  TriL^i/^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     127 

Trusty.  Then  if  you  are  such  as  soldiers,  merchants, 
and  bankers  ought  to  he,  I  could  not  mean  you ;  oth- 
erwise you  may  take  the  words,  cut-throat,  bankrupt, 
and  coward,  and  divide  'em  among  you.  And  as  to 
knave,  rascal,  and  villain,  I  return  them  to  the  right 
owners. 

Heeior,  Gentlemen,  stand  by.  I'll  fight  for  you  all. 
[DrazDS  and  turns  to  Trusty, 1  I  challenge  you  to  fight 
me. 

Land,  Poh !  challenge  him  to  eat  with  you  ;  the 
supper's  waiting. 

Hector.  [To  Lattdlord.]  Don't  interfere,  Sir:  here's 
serious  work  ;  blood  will  be  spilt. 

Trusty.  Well,  spill  your  own  then  :  I  have  no  no- 
tion of  having  my  veins  pricked. 

Hector.  Choose  your  mode  of  fighting  instantly,  or 
fall  beneath  this  sword,  which  has  drank  the  blood  of 
thousands. 

Trusty.  Well,  if  I  must  fight,  my  mode  will  be  to 
use  that  sword  five  minutes  upon  your  body  :  then  you 
shall  use  it  upon  me  as  long,  and  so  we  will  take  turns. 

Hector.  You  inflame  my  choler. 

Trusty.  Then  unpin  your  collar. 

Hector.  I  shall  burst  with  rage. 

Trusty.  Then  we  jshall  have  one  less  at  table. 

Hector.  [Brandishes  his  sword.']  Are  you  prepared 
for  your  exit  ? 

Trusty.  I  am.  [Exit. 

Hector.  Now  he  is  gone  to  arm  himself  with  pano- 
ply, to  meet  this  valorous  sword.  Guard  me,  ye  pow- 
ers! who,  in  the  day  of  batde,  mid  'clashing  swords 
and  all  the  thunder  of  my  father  Mars,  have  been  my 
shield  and  buckler.  Now  I  am  ready  for  him  :  why 
does  he  not  return  ? 

Land.  lie's  gone  to  supper.  This  is  an  eating 
house,  not  a  fighting  house.    Sheath  your  sword. 

Hector.  [Sheaths.]  There,  sword,  smother  thy  rage 
till  some  dauntless  adversary  shall  call  thee  out :  then 
seek  his  heart  and  make  report  of  victory. 

[Exeunt  cmnes* 


128  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Interval fve  minutes. 
Enter  Trusty  and  La>n^dlord. 

Land,  1  take  that  oiRccr-looking  man  to  be  Colon 
Home,  one  of  the  bravest  men  in  the  army. 

Trusty,  Colonel  Home  and  he  ai-c  very  diifere 
characters.  That  wretch  was  but  an  ensign,  and  vi 
cashiered  for  cowardice. 

Laiid.  Is  that  possible  ?  Why,  he  told  me  himself 
that  he  had  alone  surprised  a  whole  regiment  and  cut 
them  in  pieces  ;  and  that  all  the  army  stood  in  awe  of 
hiin. 

Trnsty,  Well,  you  may  depend  on  what  I  tell  vou : 
and  the  one  that  sits  next  to  him  is  a  bankrupt/who 
has  been  guilty  of  every  shameful  practice  to  defraud 
his  creditors  ;  and  the  other  is  a  base  pawn-broker, 
vvho  has  got  all  the  property  of  this  bankrupt  in  hi| 
hands  for  concealment. 

Land,  You  surprise   me!  Why,  that  bankrupt,  as 
you  call  him,  was  just  now  telling  the  other,  how  he 
was  afraid  the  late  storms  at  sea  might  aflect  his  ship- 
ping  ;  and  the  other  was  offering  to  insure  them. 
Enter  Hector,  Hamburgh,  and  Simon. 

Hector,  [To  Triisty.']  Since  my  wrath  is  a  little 
abated,  I  am  persuaded  you  meant  no  offence;  but 
look  ye,  Sir,  if  any  man  was  seriously  tD  dispute  my 
courage,  you  see  my  sword  ! 

Trusty,  I  see  ii. 

Hector,  And  don't  you  fear  it  ? 

Trusty,  No  ;  nor  its  owner.  [Hector  offers  to  draw,] 
Forbear,  or  ''  I  will  tell  a  talc,  will  make  it  blush." 

[Hector  sneaks  off, 

Hamh,  [To  Trusty.']  1  am  not  disposed,  Sir,  to  be- 
lieve that  you  meant  me  by  any  expression  you  made, 
as  to  coward  and  eut-throat :  they  certainly  don't 
belonff  to  me.  And  as  to  bankrupt,  the  four  winds 
can  give  the  lie  to  such-  a  charge. 

Trusty,  They  €cml(l  ^\y2  but  windy  testimony  in 
your  favour.  *^  Hamh, 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     129 

-  Ilamb,  Then  I  appeal  to  this  worthy  gentleman, 
fSpeaking  of  Simon, '\  and  an  honcster  m.tn  lives  not  on 
earth,  if  I  liave  not  thousands  in  his  hands. 

Simon,  [Aside  to  Hamb.'j  You  had  better  leave  it 
to  the  four  winds. 

Hamh,  [Loud  and  hastily,']  Have  1  not  monies  of 
a  great  amount  in  your  hands  ? 

.  .  Simon,  Did  you  not  take  an  oath,  a  few  days  sincc^ 
tliat  you  had  not,  directly  nor  indirectly,  five  pounds  on 
earth  ? 

Hamb.  Yes.  I  had  not  on  earth ;  but  it  was  then 
in  your  coffers,  and  you  know  it. 

Simon,  U  your  oath  that  you  had  no  property  canH 
be  relied  on,  why  should  your  word  be  taken,  that  yoii 
have  ? 

Hamb,  But  I  ask  you,  have  you  not  my  property 
in  your  hands  ? 

Simon,  Not  a  farthing.  You  are  a  bankrupt  for 
thousands,  and  the  four  winds  may  tell  of  that. 

Hamb*  O  knavery ! 

Simon.  O  perjury ! 

Trust!/,  You  are  perfectly  welcome  to  use  the  words 
I  just  now  tossed  out  to  you ;  and  it  appears  to  me, 
ihey  are  a  very  proper  currency  between  you. 

Hamb.  O  that  I  had  the  money  out  of  tliat  wretch's 
hands,  to  give  to  my  honest  creditors  ! 

Simon.  O  that  1  had  the  character,  which  I  have 
lost  by  my  connexion  with  you  ! 

Trusty.  I  am  sorry  for  the  depravity  of  you  both. 
ft  has  led  you  to  deceive  honest  men,  and  to  betray 
each  other.  You  have  now  learned  the  value  of  repu- 
tation and  peace  of  mind,  by  the  loss  of  them.  'Let 
your  future  days  be  days  of  atonement.  Let  them  be 
devoted  to  honesty  and  fair  dealing  ;  and  ever  remem- 
ber that  integrity  is  the  only  road  to  desirable  wealth, 
and  that  the  path  of  virtue  is  alone  the  path  of  peace. 

Mr. 


130  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Mr.  Sheridan's  Speech  against  Mr.  Taylor. 


TT7E  have  this  day  been  honored  with  the  coun- 
*  V  seis  of  a  complete  gradation  of  lawyers.  We 
have  received  the  opinion  of  a  Judge,  of  an  Attorney- 
General,  of  an  Ex-Attorney-General,  and  of  a  prac- 
tising Barrister.  I  agree  with  the  learned  gentleman 
in  his  admiration  of  the  abilities  of  my  honorable 
friend,  Mr.  Fox.  What  he  has  said  of  his  quickness 
and  of  his  profoundness,  of  his  boldness  and  his  candor,. 
is  literally  just  and  true,  which  the  mental  accomplish- 
ment of  my  honorable  friend  is,  on  every  occasion,  cal- 
culated to  extort  even  from  his  adversaries. 

The  learned  gentleman  has,  however,  in  this  insidi- 
ous eulogium,  connected  such  qualities  of  mind  with' 
those  he  has  praised  and  venerated,  as  to  convert  hig 
encomiums  into  reproach,  and  his  tributes  of  praise  in- 
to censure  and  invective.  The  boldness  lie  has  de- 
scribed is  only  craft,  and  his  candor,  hypocrisy.  Upon  - 
what  grounds  does  the  learned  gentleman  connect  those 
assemblages  of  great  qualities  and  of  cardinal  defects  ? 
Uponwhat  principles,either  of  justice  or  of  equity,  does 
he  exult  Avith  one  hand,  whilst  he  insidiously  reprobates 
and  destroys  with  the  other  ? 

If  the  wolf  is  to  be  feared,  the  learned  gentiemait 
may  rest  assured,  it  will  be  the  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing^? 
the  masked  pretender  to  patriotism.  It  is  not  from  the 
fang  of  the  lion,  but  from  the  tooth  of  the  serpent, 
that  reptile  which  insidiously  steals  upon  the  vitals  of  the 
constitution,  and  gnaws  it  to  the  heart,  ere  the  mis- 
chief is  suspected,  that  destruction  is  to  be  feared. 

With  regard  to  the  acquisition  of  a  learned  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Taylor,  who  has  declared  that  he  means  to 
vote  with  us  this  day,  I  am  son'y  to  acknowledge,  that 
from  the  declaration  he  has  made  at  the  beginning  of 
his  speech,  I  see  no  great  reason  to  boast  of  such  an 
auxiliary.  The  learned  gentleman^  who  has  with  pe- 
culiar 


THE  COLUMBIAxN  ORATOR.  131 

•culiar  modesty  styled  himself  a  chicken  lawyer.hdis  de- 
clared, that,  thinking  us  in  the  right  with  respect  to 
the  subject  of  this  day's  discussion,  he  shall  vote  with 
us  ;  but  he  has  at  the  same  time  thought  it  necessary 
to  assert,  that  he  has  never  before  voted  differently 
from  the  minister  and  his  friends,  and  perhaps  he  never 
shall  again  vote  with  those  whom  he  means  to  support 
this  day. 

It  is  rather  singular  to  vote  witl^us,  professedly  be- 
cause he  finds  us  to  be  in  the  right,  and,  in  the  very 
moment  that  he  assigns  so  good  a  reason  for  changing  his 
side,  to  declare,  that  in  all  probability  he  never  shall 
vote  with  us  again.  I  am  sorry  to  find  the  chicken  is 
a  bird  of  ill  omen,  and  that  its  augury  is  so  unpropi- 
tious  to  our  future  interests.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
been  as  welj,  under  these  circumstances,  that  the  chick- 
en had  not  left  the  barn-door  of  the  treasury ;  but 
continued  side  by  side  with  the  old  cock,  to  pick  those 
crumbs  of  comfort  which  would  doubtless  be  dealt  out 
m  time,  with  a  liberality  proportionate  to  the  fidelity 
of  the  feathered  tribe. 


Part  of  Cicero's  Oration  against  Catiline. 


TT  is  now  a  long  time,  conscript  fathers,  that  we 
JL  have  trod  amidst  the  dangers  and  machinations  of 
this  conspiracy  :  but  I  know  not  how  it  comes  to  pass, 
the  full  maturity  of  all  those  crimes,  and  of  this  long- 
ripenmg.rage  and  insolence,  has  now  broken  out  du- 
ring the  period  of  my  consulship.  Should  Catiline 
alone  be  removed  from  this  powerful  band  of  traitors. 
It  may  abate,  perhaps,  our  fears  and  .anxieties  for  a 
Tvhile  ;  but  the  danger  will  still  remain,  and  continue 
lurkmg  in  the  veins  and  vitals  of  the  republic. 

For  as  men,  oppressed  with  a  severe  fit  of  illness, 
and  labouring  under  the  raging  heat  of  a  fever,  are 
often  at  first  seemingly  relieved  by  a  draught  of  cold 


watf  r ; 


1S2  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  ^ 

"■2 
water ;  but  afterwards  find  the  disease  return  upon  them 

with  redoubled  fury  ;  in  like  manner,  this  distemper, 
which  has  seized  the  commonwealth,  eased  a  little  by 
the  punishment  of  this  traitor,  will,  from  his  surviving 
associates,  soon  assume  new  force.  Wherefore,  con- 
script fathers,  let  the  wicked  retire  ;  let  them  sepa- 
rate themselves  from  the  honest ;  let  them  rendezvous 
in  one  place.  In  fine,  as  I  have  often  said,  let  a  v/all 
be  between  them  anii  us  ;  let  them  cease  to  lay  snares 
for  the  consul  in  his  own  house  ;  to  beset  the  tribunal 
of  the  city  prastor  ;  to  invest  the  senate-house  with 
armed  rutnans,and  to  prepare  fire-balls  and  torches  for 
burning  the  city  :  in  short,  let  every  man's  sentiments 
with  regard  to  the  public  be  inscribed  on  his  forehead. 

This  I  engage  for,  and  promise,  conscript  fathers, 
that  by  the  diligence  of  the  consuls,  the  weight  of  }  our 
authority,  the  courage  and  firmness  of  the  Roman 
knigjits,  and  the  unanimity  of  all  the  honest,  Catiline 
being  driven  from  the  city,  you  shall  behold  all  his 
1  reasons  detected,  exposed,  crushed,  and  punished. 

With  these  omens,  Catiline,  of  all  prosperity  to  the 
republic,  but  of  destruction  to  thyself,  and  all  those 
W'ho  have  joined  themselves  with  thee  in  all  kinds  of 
parricide,  go  thy  way  then  to  this  impious  and  abom- 
inable war:  whilst  thou,  Jupiter,  whose  religion  was' 
established  with  the  foundation  of  this  city,  whom  we 
n-uly  call  Stator,  the  stay  and  prop  of  this  empire,  wilt 
drive  this  man  and  his  accomplices  irom  thy  altars  and 
temples,  from  the  houses  and  walls  of  the  city,  from 
the  lives  and  fortunes  of  us  all ;  and  wilt  destroy  with 
eternal  punishments,  both  living  and  dead,  all  the 
h.aters  of  good  men,  the  enemies  of  their  country,  the 
plunderers  of  Italy,  now  confederated  in  this  detesta- 
ble league  and  partnership  of  viLlany. 

Descriptioin 


THE  COLUMBIAN  OflAT0R.  133 

Description    of   the   first    American    Congress  > 
FROM  THE  Vision  of  Columbus. 

COLUMBUS  look'd ;  and  still  around  them  spread, 
From  south  to  north,  th'  immeasurable  shade  ; 
At  last,  the  central  shadows  burst  away, 
And  rising  regions  open'd  on  the  day. 
He  saw,  once  more,  bright  DcPware's  silver  stream. 
And  Penn's  throng'd  city  cast  a  chcft-ful  gleam  ; 
The  dome  of  state,  that  met  his  eager  eye^ 
Now  heav'd  its  arches  in  a  loftier  sky. 
The  bursting  gates  unfold :  and  lo,  within, 
A  solemn  train,  in  conscious  glory,  shine. 
The  well-knov.-n  forms  his  eye  had  trac'd  before, 
In  dift^'rent  realms  along  tli'  extended  shore  ; 
Here,  grac'd  with  nobler  fame,  and  rob'd  in  statCj 
They  look'd  and  mov'd  magnificently  great. 
High  on  the  foremost  seat,  in  living  light, 
Majestic  Randolph  caught  the  hero's  sight :  , 

Fair  on  his  head,  the  civic  crown  was  plac'd, 
And  the  first  dignity  his  sceptre  grac'd. 
He  opes  the  cause,  and  points  in  prospect  far,. 
'  Through  all  the  toils  that  wait  th'  impending  war, 
But,  hapless  sage,  thy  reign  must  soon  be  o'er, 
To  lend  thy  lustre,  and  to  shine  no  more. 
So  the  bright  morning  star,  from  shades  of  ev'n, 
Leads  up  the  dawn,  and  lights  the  front  of  heav'n, 
Points  to  the  waking  world  the  sun's  broad  way, 
Then  v^ils  his  own,  and  shines  above  the  day. 
Arid  see  great  Washington  behind  thee  rise, 
Thy  following  sun,  to  gild  our  morning  skies ; 
O'er  shadov/y  climes  to  pour  th'  enlivening  flame, 
The  charms  of  freedom  and  the  fire  of  fame. 
Th'  ascending  chief  adorn'd  his  splendid  seat, 
Like  Randolph,  ensign'd  with  a  crown  of  state, 
Where  the  green  patriot  bay  beheld,  with  pride, 
The  hero's  laurel  springing  by  its  side  ; 
His  sword  hung  useless,  on  his  graceful  thigh, 

M  On 


134  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


On  Britain  still  he  cast  a  filial  eye ; 
But  sovereign  fortitude  his  visage  bore, 
To  meet  their  legions  on  th'  invaded  shore. 

Sage  Franklin  next  arose,  in  awful  mien, 
And  smil'd,  unruffled,  o'er  th'  approaching  scene ; 
High,  on  his  locks  of  age,  a  wreath  was  brac'd. 
Palm  of  all  arts,  that  e'er  a  mortal  grac'd ; 
Beneath  him  lies  the  sceptre  kings  have  borne, 
And  crowns  and  laurels  from  thcii'  temples  torn. 
Nash,  Rutledge,  Je^erson,  in  council  great, 
And  Jay  and  Laurens  op'd  the  rolls  of  fate. 
The  Livingstons,  fair  freedom's  gen'rous  band, 
The  Lees,  the  Houstons,  fathers  of  the  land, 
O'er  climes  and  kingdoms  turn'd  their  ardent  eyes, 
Bade  all  th'  oppress'd  to  speedy  vengeance  rise ; 
All  powers  of  state,  in  their  extended  plan. 
Rise  from  consent  to  shield  the  rights  of  man. 
Bold  Wolcott  urg'd  the  all-important  cause ; 
With  steady  hand  the  solemn  scene  he  draws ; 
Undaunted  firmness  -with  his  v/isdom  join'd. 
Nor  kings  nor  worlds  could  warp  his  stedfast  mind 

Now,  graceful  rising  from  his  purple  throne. 
In  radiant  robes,  immortal  Hosmer  shone  ; 
Myrtles  and  bays  his  learned  temples  bound, 
The  statesman's  wreath,  the  poet's  garland  crownM : 
Morals  and  laws  expand  his  liberal  soul, 
Beam  from  his  eyes,  and  in  his  accents  roU. 
But  lo !  an  unseen  hand  the  curtain  drew. 
And  snatch'd  the  patriot  from  the  hero's  view ; 
Wrapp'd  in  the  shroud  of  death,  he  sees  descend         ■. 
The  guide  of  nations  and  the  muse's  friend.  I 

Columbus  dropp'd  a  tear.     The  angel's  eye 
Trac'd  the  freed  spirit  mounting  through  the  sky< 

Adams,  enrag'd,  a  broken  charter  bore, 
And  lawless  acts  of  ministerial  power; 
Some  injur'd  right  in  each  loose  leaf  appear^, 
A  king  in  terrors  and  a  land  in  tears ; 
From  all  the  guileful  plots  the  veil  he  drew. 
With  eye  retortive  look'd  cv^-^^hii  thro'iojb  ; 

Opi 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  135 

Ojvd  the  wide  ran^c  of  nature's  boundless  plan, 
Ti-ac'd  all  the  steps  of  liberty  and  man  5 
Crowds  rose  to  vengeance  while  his  accents  rung, 
And  Independence  thunder'd  from  his  tongue. 


Speech  of  Buonaparte,  Commander  in  Chief  of 
THE  French  Army  in  Italy,  to  his  Brethren 
IN  Arms. 

/  Soldiers, 

"\7'0U  arc  precipitated  like  a  torrent  from  the 
X  heights  of  the  Appenines  ;  you  have  overthrown 
and  dispersed  all  that  dared  to  oj^pose  your  march. 
Piedmont,  rescued  from  Austrian  tyranny,  is  left  to  its 
natural  sentiments  of  regard  and  friendship  to  the 
French.  Milan  is  yours  ;  and  the  republican  standard 
is  displayed  throughout  all  Lombardy.  The  dukes  of 
Parma  and  Modena  are  indebted  for  their  political  ex- 
istence only  to  your  generosity. 

The  army,  which  so  proudly  menaced  you,  has  had 
no  other  barrier  than  its  dissolution  to  oppose  your  in- 
vincible courage.  The  Po,  the  Tessen,  the  Adda,  could 
not  retard  you  a  .single  day.     The  vaunted  bulwarks 
cf  Italy  were    insufficient.     You  swept  them  with  the 
same  rapidity  that  you  did  the  Appenines.    Those  suc- 
cesses have  carried  joy  into  the  bosom  of  your  country. 
Your  representatives  decreed  a  festival  dedicated  to  your 
victories^  and  to  be  celebrated  throughout  all  the  com- 
munes of  the  republic.     Now  your  fathers,  your  moth- 
ers, your  wives,  and  your  sisters,  will  rejoice  in  your 
success,  and  take  pride  in  their  relation  to  you. 
;  Yes,  soldiers,  you  have  done  much  ;  but  more  still 
remains  for  you  to  do.     Shall  it  be  said  of  us,  that  we 
!  know  how  to  conquer,  but  not  to  profit  by  our  victo- 
ries ?  Shall  posterity  reproach  us  with  having  found  a 
I  Capua  in  Lombardy'/  But  already  I  sec   you  fly  to 
I  arms.    You  are  fatigued  with  an  inactive  repose.    Voii 
I  lament  the  days  that  are  lost  to  your   glory!  Well, 
I  then^ 

I' 


1 


tS6  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

then,  let  us  proceed;  we  have  other  forced  marches  to 
make,  other  enemies  to  subdue  •,  more  laurels  to  ac- 
quire, and  more  injuries  to  avenge. 

Let  those  who  have  unsheathed  the  da^ggers  of  civil| 
war  in  France  ;  who  have  basely  assassinated  our  miri-? 
isters  5  who  have  btirnt  our  ships  at  Toulon  ;  let  them 
tremble  !  the  knell  of  vengeance  has  already  tolled ! 

But  to  quiet  the  apprehensions  of  the  people,  we 
declare  ourselves  the  friends  of  all,  and  particularly  of 
those  Vv'ho  are  the  descendants  of  Brutus,  of  Scipio, 
and  those  other  great  men  whom  wo  have  taken  foj 
our  models. 

To  re-establish  the  capital ;  to  replace  the  statues 
of  those  heroes  who  have  rendered  it  immortal ;  t9 
rouse  the  Roman  people  entranced  in 'so  many  ages  o{ 
slavery ;  this  shall  be  the  fruit  of  your  victories.  U 
will  be  an  epoch  for  the  admiration  of  posterity ;  yoti 
will  enjoy  the  immortal  glory  of  changing  the  aspect 
of  affairs  in  the  finest  part  of  Europe.  The  free  peo- 
ple of  France,  not  regardless  of  moderation,  shall  accord 
to  Europe  a  glorious  peace ;  but  it  will  indemnify 
itself  for  the  sacrifices  of  every  kind  which  it  has  been 
making  for  six  years  past.  You  will  again  be  restored 
to  your  fire-sides  and  homes ;  and  your  fellow-citizen^ 
pointing  you  out,  shall  say,  '*  There  goes  one  who 
belonged  to  the  army  of  Italy  !" 


Reflections    over   the  Grave  of  a  Young  Man. 


HERE  lies  the  grief  of  a  fond  mother,  and  the  blast- 
ed expectation  of  an  indulgent  father.  The^ 
youth  grew  up,  like  a  well-watered  plant;  he  shot 
deep,  rose  high,  and  bade  fair  for  manhood.  But  just 
as  the  cedar  began  to  tower,  and  promised  ere  long,  to 
be  the  pride  of  the  wood,  and  prince  among  the  neigi^ 
bouring  trees,  behold!  the  axe  is  laid  unto  the  root 


oil 

1 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  i37 

the  fatal  blow  struck;  and  all  its  branching  honors 
tumbled  to  the  dust.  And  did  he  fall  alone  ?  No : 
the  hopes  of  his  father  that  begat  him,  and  the  pleasing 
prospects  of  her  that  bare  him,  fell,  and  were  crushed 
together  with  him. 

.  Doubtless  it  would  have  pierced  one's  heart,  to  have 
beheld  the  tender  parents  following  the  breathless 
youth  to  his  long  home.  Perhaps,  drowned  in  tears, 
and  all  overwhelmed  with  sorrows,  they  stood,  like 
weeping  statues,  on  this  very  spot.  Methinks  I  see 
the  deeply-distressed  mourners  attending  the  sad  solem- 
nity. How  they  wring  their  hands,  and  pour  forth 
floods  from  their  eyes !  Is  it  fancy  ?  or  do  I  really 
hear  the  passionate  mother,  in  an  agony  of  affliction, 
taking  her  final  leave  of  the  darling  of  her  soul? 
Dumb  she  remained,  while  the  awful  obsequies  were 
performing ;  dumb  with  grief,  and  leaning  upon  the 
partner  of  her  woes.  But  now  the  inward  anguish 
struggles  for  vent ;  it  grows  too  big  to  be  repressed. 
She  advances  to  the  brink  of  the  grave.  All  her  soul 
is  in  her  eyes.  She  fastens  one  more  look  upon  the 
dear  doleful  object,:  before  the  pit  shuts  its  mouth  upon 
him.  And  as  she  looks,  she  cries  ;  in  broken  accents, 
interrupted  by  many  a  rising  sob,  she  cries,  Farewell, 
my  son  !  my  son  !  my  only  beloved !  would  to  God  I 
had  died  for  thee  !  Farewell,  my  child !  and  farewell  all 
earthly  happiness  !  I  shall  never  more  see  good  in  the 
land  of  the  living.  Attempt  not  to  comfort  me.  I 
will  go  mourning  all  my  days,  till  my  grey  hairs  come 
down  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  . 


/ 


,  Scene    from    the    Drama    of    "  Moses    in    the 
Bulrushes." 


JocHEBED,  Miriam. 

Jochebed.'Wl^^,  '?'  "^y  P^y^^  accepted?  why 
T  T     did  lieaven 

lA  anger  hear  me,  when  1  ask'd  a  son  ? 

M2  Ye 


138  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Ye  dames  of  Egypt !  happy  !  happy  mothers ! 
No  tyrant  robs  you  of  yom*  fondest  hopes  ; 
You  are  not  doom'd  to  see  the  babes  you  bore. 
The  babes  you  nurture,  bleed  before  your  eyes  J 
You  taste  the  transports  of  maternal  love, 
And  never  know  its  anguish  !     Happy  mothers  ! 
How  different  is  the  lot  of  thy  sad  daughters, 
O  wTetched  Israel !     Was  it  then  for  this  ? 
Was  it  for  this  the  righteous  arm  of  God 
Rcscu'd  his  chosen  people  from  the  jaws 
Of  cruel  want,  by  pious  Joseph's  care  ? 
Joseph,  th'  elected  instrum.ent.of  Heav'n, 
Decreed  to  save  illustrious  Abram's  race, 
What  time  the  famine  rag'd  in  Canaan's  land. 
Israel,  who  then  was  spar'd,  must  perish  now! 
O  thou  mysterious  Pow'r !  who  hast  involved 
Thy  wise  decrees  in  darkness,  to  perplex 
The  pride  of  human  wisdom,  to  confound 
The  daring  scrutiny,  and  prove  the  fftith 
Of  thy  presuming  creatures  !  clear  this  doubt  j 
Teach  me  to  trace  this  maze  of  Providence  ; 
Why  save  the  fathers,  if  the  sons  must  perish  ? 

Miriam.     Ah  me,  my  mother!  v/hene^  these  flc 
of  grief  ? 

Joch*     My  son  !  ray  son  !  I  cannot  speak  the  res^ 
Yg  who  have  sons  can  only  know  my  fondness  ! 
¥e  who  have  lost  them,  or  who  fear  to  lose, 
Can  only  know  my  pangs  !  None  else  can  guess  them* 
A  mother's  sorrows  cannot  be  conceiv'd, 
But  by  a  mother.     Wherefore  am  I  one  '? 

Mir,  With  many  prayers  thou  didst  request  this  son, 
And  Heav'n  has  granted  him. . 

Jack,  O  sad  estate 

Of  human  wretchedness  i  so  weak  is  man. 
So  ignorant  and  blind,  that  did  not  God 
Sometimes  withhold  in  mercy  what  we  ask, 
We  showld  be  ruin'd  at  our  own  request. 
Too  well  thou  know'st,  my  child,  the  stern  decree 
Of  Fgypt's  cr\iol  ki/ig,  hard-hearted  Pharaoh  ; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  139 

"  That  ev'ry  male,  of  Hebrew  mother  born, 

♦'  Must  die."  O  !  do  1  live  to  tell  it  thee  ?  ; 

Must  die  a  bloody  death  !  My  child  !  my  son, 

My  youngest  born,  my  darling  must  be  slain  ! 

Mir,  The  helpless  itmocent !  and  must  he  die  ? 

Joch,  No  :  if  a  mother's  tears,  a  mother's  prayers, 
A  mother's  fond  precautions  can  prevail, 
He  shall  not  die.     I  have  a  thought,  my  Miriam!         . 
And  sure  the  God  of  mercies,  who  inspired, 
Will  bless  the  secret  purpose  of  my  soul, 
To  save  his  precious  life. 

Mir,  Hop'st  thjDU  that  Pharaoh — 

Joch.  I  have  no  hope  in  Pharaoh;  much  in  God, 
Much  in  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

Mir,  Think,  O  think, 

What  perils  thou  already  hast  incurrd  ; 
And  shun  the  greater,  which  may  yet  remain,  [serv'd 
Three  months,  three  dang'rous  months  thou  hast  pre- 
Thy  infant's  life,  and  in  thy  house  conceaPd  him! 
Should  Pharaoh  knoAv ! 

Joch,  O  !  let  the  tyrant  know, 
And  feel  what  he  inflicts  !  Yes,  hear  me,  Kcav'n  !» 

Send  the  right  aiming  thunderbolts But  hush, 

My  impious  murmurs  !  Is  it  not  thy  will, 

Thou  infinite  in  mercy  ?  Thou  perm.itt'st 

This  seeming  evil  for  some  latent  good. 

Yes,  I  will  laud  thy  grace,  and  bless  thy  goodness 

For  what  I  have,  and  not  arraign  thy  v/isdom  " 

For  what  I  fear  to  lose.     O,  I  will  bless  thee. 

That  Aaron  will  be  spar d  !  that  my  first-born 

Lives  safe  and  undisturb'd  !  that  he  was  given  me 

Before  this  impious  persecution  rag'd  ! 

Mir,  And  yet  who  knov/s,  but  the  fell  tyrant's  rage 
May  reach  his  precious  life  ? 

Joch,  I  fear  for  him. 

For  thee,  for  all.     A  doting  parent  lives 
In  many  lives  ;  through  many  a  nerve  she  feels  : 
From  child  to  child  the  qpick  affections  spread, 
Forever  wand'rmg,  yet  iorever  fiii'd. . 

Nor 


140  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  y 

Nor  does  division  weaken,  nor  the  force  ' 

Of  constant  operation  e'er  exhaust 

Parental  love.     All  other  passions  change, 

With  changing  circumstances  :  rise  or  fall,         ; 

Dependant  on  their  object ;  claim  returns  ; 

Live  on  reciprocation,  and  expire 

Unfed  by  hope.     A  mother's  fondness  reigns 

Without  a  rival,  and  without  an  end. 

Mi}\  But  say  what  Heav'n  inspires,  to  save  thy  son 

Jock.  Since  the  dear  fatal  morn  which  gave  him  birth 
I  have  revolv'd  in  my  distracted  mind 
Each  mean  to  save  his  life  :  and  many  a  thought, 
Which  fondness  prompted,  prudence  has  oppos'd 
As  perilous  and  rash.     With  these  poor  hands 
I've  fram'd  a  little  ark  of  slender  reeds  ! 
With  pitch  and  slime  I  have  secur'd  the  sides. 
In  this  frail  cradle  I  intend  to  lay 
My  little  helpless  infant,  and  expose  him 
Upon  the  banks  of  Nile. 

Mir,  'Tis  full  of  danger. 

Joch,    'Tis  danger  to  expose,  and  death  to  keep  him.- 

Mir,  Yet,  O  Tcflcct !  Should  the  fierce  crocodile, 
The  native  and  the  tyrant  of  the  Nile, , 
Seize  the  defenceless  infant ! 

Joch,  O,  forbear! 

Spare  my  fond  heart.     Yet  net  the  crocodile^ 
Nor  all  the  deadly  monsters  of  the  deep, 
To  me  are  half  so  terrible  as  Pharaoh, 
That  heathen  king,  that  royal  murderer  ! 

Mir,  Should  he  escape,  which  yet  I  uare  not  hop* 
Each  sea-born  mon&ter;  yet  the  winds  and  waves 
He  cannot  'scape. 

Joch.  Know,  God  is  every  where ; 
Not  to  one  narrow,  partial  spot  confin'd  ; 
No,  not  to  chosen  Israel.     He  extends  ^ 

Through  all  the  vast  infinitude  of  space. . 
At  his  command  the  furious  tempests  rise, 
The  blasting  of  the  breath  of  his.  displeasure  i     '1 
He  tells  the  world  of  waters  when  to  roar  j 

An< 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  141 

And  at  his  bidding,  winds  and  seas  are  calm. 
In  Him,  not  in  an  arm  of  flesh  I  trust ; 
In  Him,  whose  promise  never  yet  has  fail'd, 
I  place  my  confidence. 

Mir.  What  must  I  do  ? 

Command  thy  daughter,  for  thy  words  have  wak'd 
An  holy  boldnesi  inmv  youthful  breast. 

Joch.  Go  then,  my  Miriam  ;  go,  and  take  the  infant ; 
Buried  in  harmless  slumbers,  there  he  lies  ; 
*  Let  me  not  see  him.     Spare  my  heart  that  pang. 
Yet  sure,  one  little  look  m^y  be  indulged  ; 
One  kiss  ;  perhaps  the  last.     No  more,  my  soul ! 
That  fondness  would  be  fatal.     I  should  keep  him* 
I  could  not  doom  to  death  the  babe  I  clasp'd  : 
Did  ever  mother  kill  her  sleeping  boy  ? 
I  dare  not  hazard  it.     The  task  be  thine. 

0  !  do  not  wake  my  chiM  ;  remove  him  softly  ; 
And  gently  lay  him  on  the  river's  brink. 

Mir,  Did  those  magician.^;,  whom  the  sons  of  Egypt 

Consult,  and  think  all  potent,  join  their  skill, 

And  was  it  great  as  Egypt's  sons  believe  ; 

Yet  all  their  secret  wizard  arts  combin'd. 

To  save  this  little  ark  of  bulrushes, 
.  Thus  fearfully  expos'd,  could  not  effect  it. 

Their  spells,  their  incantations,  and  dire  charms 

Could  not  preserve  it. 

Jock,  Know,  this  ark  is  charm'd 

With  spells,  which  impious  flgypL  never  knew. 
'  VViih  invocations  to  the  living  God,  ^ 

1  twisted  every  slender  reed  together. 
And  with  a  prayer  did  cv'ry  osier  weave. 

Mir,  I  go. 

Joch,  Yet  ere  thou  go'st,  observe  me  well. 
When  thou  hast  laid  him  in  his  wat'ry  bed, 

0  leave  him  not ;  but  at  a  distance  wait, 

And  mark  what  Heav'n's  high  will  determines  fur  him. 
Lay  him  among  the  flags  on  yonder  beach, 
Just  where  the  royal  gardens -meet  the  Nile. 

1  dare  not  follow  him.     Suspicion's  eye 

Would 


142  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Would  note  my  wild  demeanor ;  Miriam,  yes, 
The  mother's  fondness  would  betray  the  child. 
Farewell !  God  of  my  fathers,  O  protect  him  ! 


Sl'EEOH      OF      CaIUS      CaSSIUS      TO     HIS      COLLECTED 

Forces,  after  the  Death  of  Cesar. 

Soldiers  and  Fellow-Citizens, 

THE  unjust  reproaches  of  our  enemies  we  could 
easily  disprove,  if  we  were  not,  by  our  numbers, 
and  by  the  swords  which  we  hold  in  our  hands,  in  con- 
dition to  despise  them.  While  Cesar  led  the  armies  of 
the  republic  against  the  enemies  of  Rome,  we  took 
part  in  the  same  service  with  him  ;  we  obeyed  him  ; 
we  were  happy  to  serve  under  his  command.  But 
when  he  declared  war  against  the  commonwealth,  we 
became  his  enemies  ;  and  when  he  became  an  usurper 
and  a  tyrant,  we  resented,  as  an  injury,  even  the  fa- 
vours which  he  presumed  to  bestow  upon  ourselves. 

Had  he  been  to  fall  a  sacrifice  to  private  resentment, 
we  should  not  have  been  the  proper  actors  in  the  exe- 
cution of  the  sentence  against  him.  He  was  willing  to 
have  indulged  us  with  preferments  and  honours ;  but,  ^ 
we  were  not  willing  to  accept,  as  the  gift  of  a  master,  ' 
what  we  were  entitled  to  claim  as  free  citizens.  We 
conceived,  that,  in  presuming  to  confer  the  honors  of 
the  Roman  Republic,he  encroached  on  the  prerogatives 
of  the  Roman  people,  and  insulted  the  authority  of 
the  Roman  senate.  Cesar  cancelled  the  laws,  and  over- 
tunied  the  constitution  of  his  country  ;  he  usurped  all 
the  powers  of  the  commonwealth,  set  up  a  m.onarchy, 
and  liimself  aflected  to  be  a  king.  This  our  ancestors, 
at  the  expulsion  of  Tarquin,  bound  themselves  and 
their  posterity,  by  the  most  solemn  oaths,  and  by  the 
most  direful  imprecations,  never  to  endure.  The  same 
obligation  has  been  entailed  upon  us  as  a  debt  by  ou 
fatlitrs  ;  and  we,  having  faithfully  paid  and  dischargei 

it 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     i4S 

it,  have  performed  the  t)ath,  and  averted  the  conse- 
quences of  failure  from  ourselves,  and  from  our  pos- 
terity. 

In  the  station  of  soldiers,  we  might  have  committed 
ourselves,  without  reflection,  to  the  command  of  an 
officer,  whose  abilities  and  whose  valour  we  admired ; 
but,  in  the  character  of  Roman  citizens,  we  have  a  far 
different  part  to  sustain.  I  must  suppose,  that  I  now 
speak  to  the  Roman  people,  and  to  citizens  of  a  free 
republic  ;  to  men  who  have  never  learned  to  depend 
upon  others  for  gratifications  and  favours  ;  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  own  a  superior,  but  who  are  themselves 
the  masters,  the  dispensers  of  fortune  and  of  honor, 
and  the  givers  of  all  those  dignities  and  powers  by 
which  Cesar  himself  was  exalted,  and  of  which  he  as- 
sumed the  entire  disposal. 

Recollect  from  whom  the  Scipios,  the  Pompeys,  and 
even  Cesar  himself  derived  his  honors  ;  from  your  an- 
cestors, whom  you  now  represent,  and  from  yourselves, 
to  whom,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  republic,  we, 
who  are  now  your  leaders  in  the  field,  address  ourselves 
as  your  fellow-citizens  in  the  commonwealth,  and  as 
persons  depending  on  your  pleasure  for  the  just  reward 
and  retribution  of  our  services.  Happy  in  being  able 
to  restore  to  you  what  Cesar  had  the  presumption  to 
appropriate  to  himself,  the  power  and  the  dignity  of 
your  fathers,  with  the  supreme  disposal  of  all  the  of- 
fices of  trust  that  were  established  for  your  safety,  and 
for  the  preservation  of  your  freedom  ;  happy  in  being 
able  to  restore  to  the  tribunes  of  the  Roman  people  the 
power  of  protecting  you,  and  of  procuring  to  every 
Roman  citizen  that  justice,  v,hich,  under  the  late  usur- 
pation of  Cesar,  was  withheld,  even  from  the  sacred 
persons  of  those  magistrates  themselves. 

An  usurper  is  the  common  enemy  of  all  good  citizens  ; 
but  tlie  task  of  removing  him  could  be  the  business  only 
of  a  fevr.  The  senate  and  the  Roman  people,  as  soon 
as  it  was  proper  for  them  to  declare  their  judgment, 
pronounced  their  approbation  of  those  who  were  con- 
cerned 


144  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

cerned  in  the  death  of  Cesar,  t)y  the  rewards  and  the 
honors  which  they  bestowed  upon  them  ;  and  they  are 
now  become  a  prey  to  assassins  and  murderers;  they 
bleed  in  the  streets,  in  the  temples,  in  the  most  secret 
retreats,  and  in  the  arms  of  their  families  ;  or  they  are 
dispersed,  and  fly  wherever  they  hope  to  escape  the 
fury  of  their  enemies. 

Many  are  now  present  before  you,  happy  m  your 
protection,  happy  in  witnessing  the  zeal  which  you  en- 
tertain for  the  commonwealth,  for  the  rights  of  your 
fellow-citizens,  and  for  your  own.  These  respectable 
citizens,  we  trust,  will  soon,  by  your  means,  be  restor- 
ed to  a  condition  in  which  they  can  enjoy,  together 
with  you,  ail  the  honors  of  a  free  people  ;  concur  with 
you,  in  bestowing,  and  partake  with  you  in  receivmg, 
the  rewards  which  are  due  to  such  eminent  services  as 
you  are  now  engaged  to  perform. 


1 


Part     of    Mr.    Erskine's    Speech    against    Mr. 
Pitt,  1784. 


I 


Mr.  Speaker, 

T  becomes  us  to  Ifearn,  not  from  the  minister,  but^ 
_  from  the  throne  itself,  whether  this  country  is  to 
be  governed  by  men,  in  whom  the  House  of  Commons 
can  confide,  or  whether  we,   the  people  of  England's^ 
Representatives,  are  to  be  the  sport  and  foot-ball  of  anyj 
junto  that  may  hope  to  rule  over  us,  by  an  unseen  and: 
unexplorable  principle  of  government,  utterly  unknown 
to  the  Constitution.     This  is  the  great  question,  t- 
which    every  public-spirited   citizen  of  this  countr 
should  direct  his  view.     A  question  which  goes  ver^ 
wide  of  the  policy  to  be   adopted  concerning   India  ^ 
about  which  very  wise  and  very  honest  men,  not  only 
might,  but  have,  and  did  materially  differ. 

The  total  removal  of  all  the  executive  servants  o 
the  crown,  while  they  are  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  th 

confidenc 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOK.  145 

confidence  of  that  House,  and,  indeed,  withont  any 
other  visible  or  avowed'cause  of  removal,  than  because 
they  do  enjoy  that  confidence ;  and  the  appointment 
of  others  in  their  room,  without  any  other  apparent 
ground  of  selection  than  because  they  enjoy  it  not,  is, 
in  my  mind,  a  most  alaraiing  and  portentous  attack  on 
the  public  freedom  ;  because,  though  no  outward  form 
of  the  government  is  relaxed  or  violated  by  it,  so  as 
instantly  to  supply  the  constitutional  remedy  of  oppo- 
sition, the  whole  spirit  and  energy  of  the  .government 
is  annihilated  by  it. 

If  the  Right  Honorable  Gentleij^ian  retain  his  own  opin- 
ions, and  if  the  house  likewise  retain  its  own,  is  it  not 
evident  that  he  came  into  office  without  the  most  dis- 
tant prospect  of  serving  the  public  ?  Is  it  not  evident 
that  he  has  brought  on  a  struggle  between  executive 
and  legislative  authority,  at  a  time  when  they  are 
pointing  with  equal  vigour,  unity,  and  effect,  to  the 
common  interests  of  the  nation  ? 

The  Right  Honorable  Gentleman  may  imagine  that 
I  take  pleasure  in  making  these  observations.  If  so,  1 
can  assure  him,  upon  my  honor,  that  it  is  far  from  be- 
ing the  case.  So  very  far  the  contrary,  that  the  incon- 
veniences which  the  country  suffers  at  this  moment, 
from  the  want  of  a  settled  government,  arc  greatly 
heightened  to  my  feelings,  from  the  reflection  that  they 
are  i)  creased  by  his  unguided  ambition. 

Our  fathers  were  fi'iends ;  and  I  was  taught,  from 
my  infancy,  to  reverence  the  name  of  Pitt ;  an  original 
partiality,  which,  instead  of  being  diminished,  w^as 
strongly  confirmed  by  an  acquaintance  with  the  RighV 
Honorable  Gentleman  himself,  which  I  was  cultivating 
with  pleasure,  when  he  was  taken  from  his  profession, 
into  a  different  scene.  Let  him  not  think  that  I  am 
the  less  his  friend,  or  the  mean  envier  of  his  talents, 
because  they  have  been  too  much  the  topic  of  pane- 
gyric here  already,  and  both  I  and  ilie  public  are  now 
reaping  the  bitter  fruits  of  the^e  intemperate  praises. 

N  '^rt 


t46  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 


)eafP 


*'  It  is  good,''  said  Jeremiah,  *'  for  a  man  to  be 
the  yoke  in  his  youth ;"  and  if  the  Right  Honorable 
Gentleman  had  attended  to  this  maxim,  he  woiild  not^ 
at  so  early  a  period,  have  declared  against  a  subordi- 
iiate  situation  ;  but  would  have  lent  the  aid  of  his  fac 
ulties  to  carry  on  the  afiairs  of  this  country,  vvhi£ 
wanted  nothing  but  stability  to  render  them  glorious", 
instead  of  setting  up  at  once  for  himself  to  be  the  first 

How  very  different  has  been  the  progress  of  ra- 
honorable  friend,  who  sits  near  me  •,  who  was  n 
hatched  at  once  into  a  minister,  by  the  Iieat  of  his  ow 
ambition ;  but  who,  as  it  was  good  for  him  to  do,  i^ 
the  words  of  the  prophet, "  bore  the  yoke  in  his  }  outh  -^t 
passed  through  the  subordinate  ofiices,and  matured  his 
talents,  in  long  and  laborious  oppositions  ;  arriving,  by 
the  natural  progress  of  his  powerful  mind,  to  a  su}:)c- 
riority  of  political  wisdom  and  comprehension,  which 
this  House  had  long,  with  delight  and  satisfaction,  ac- 
knowledged. 

To  pluck  such  a  man  from  the  councils  of  his  coun- 
try in  the  hour  of  her  distresses,  while  he  enjoyed  the 
full  confidence  of  the  House,  to  give  effect  to  vigorous 
plans  for  her  interest;  and  to  throw  every  thing  into 
confusion,  by  the  introduction  of  other  men,  introdu- 
ced,  as  it  should  seem,  for  no  other  purpose  than  to 
beget  that  confusion,  is  an  evil,  which,  if  we  canjiot 
rectify,  we  may  at  least  have  leave  to  lament. 

These  evils  are,  however,  imputed,  by  the  Rii;ht 
Honorable  Gentleman  and  his  colleagues,  to  anoUinr 
source  ;  to  the  bill  for  the  regulation  of  the  East-In- 
dies ;  from,  the  mischiefs  of  which  they  had  stepped 
forth  to  save  the  country ;  a  language  most  indecent 
in  this  House  of  Commons,  which  thought  it  their  duty 
to  the  public  to  pass  it  by  a  majority  of  above  one  hun- 
dred ;  but  which  was,  however,  to  be  taken  to  be  de- 
structive and  dangerous,  notwithstanding  that  author- 
ity :  because  it  had  been  disapproved  by  a  majority  ol 
eighteen  votes  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Some  of  whose 
opinions  I  reverence  as  conscientious  and  independent ; 

bir. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOa.     147 

]^>ut  the  majority  of  that  small  majority  voted  upon 
principles  which  the  forms  of  the  House  will  not  per- 
nit  me  to  allude  to,  farther  than  to  say,  that  individual 
Noblemen  are  not  always  Gentlemen, 


Extract  fro^  President  Washixoton's  Address 
TO  THE  People  of  the  Umted  States,  Sep- 
tember 17,  1796. 


Friends  and  Fellow-Citizens, 
[ri^HE  period  for  a  new  election  of  a  citizen  to  ad- 
X  minister  the  executive  govcrnnirnt  of  the  United 
States,  being  not  far  distant ;  and  the  time  actually 
arrived,  wlien  your  thoughts  must  be  emplo3'ed  in  de- 
signating the  person,  who  is  to  be  cluihed  with  that 
important  trust,  it  appears  to  me  proper,  especially  as 
it  may  conduce  to  a  more  distinct  expression  of  the 
public  voice,  that  I  should  now  apprise  you  of  the  res- 
olution I  have  formed, 'to  declijie  being  considered 
among  the  number  of  those,  out  of  whom  a  choice  is 
to  be  made. 

.1  beg  you,  at  the  same  time,  to  do  me  the  justice  to 
,^e  assured,  that  this  resolution  has  not  been  taken, 
without  a  strict  regard  to  all  the  considerations  apper- 
taining to  the  relation,  which  binds  a  dutiful  citizen  to 
his  country ;  and  that,  in  withdrawing  the  tender  of 
service  which  silence  in  my  situation  might  imply,  I 
am  influenced  by  no  diminution  of  zeal  for  your  future 
interest ;  no  deficiency  of  grateful  respect  for  your  past 
kihdness  ;  but  am  supported  by  a  full  conviction  that 
^e  step  is  compatible  with  both. 

The  acceptance  of,  and  continuance  hidierto  in  the 
office  to  which  your  suffrages  have  twice  called  me, 
have  been  a  uniform  sacrifice  of  inclination  to  the  opin- 
ion of  duty,  and  to  a  deference  for  what  appeared  to 
be  your  desire.  I  consta>itly  hoped,  that  it  would  have 
been  much  earlier  in  my  pewcr,  consistently  wiih  mo- 
tives, 


>48  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

kives,  which  I  was  not  at  liberty  to  disregard,  to  retui-ji 
to  that  retirement  from  which  I  had  been  reluctantlj^ 
^awn.  The  strength  of  my  inclination  to  do  thi^* 
previous  to  the  last  election,  had  even  led  to  the  prepw 
sration  of  an  address  to  declare  it  to  you ;  but  matu^;e 
reflection  on  the  then  perplexed  and  critical  posture  of 
®ur  a/fairs  with  foreign  nations,  and  the  unanimous  ad- 
vice of  persons  entitled  to  my  confidence,  impelled  mt 
to  abandon  the  idea. 

I  rejoice,  that  the  state  of  your  corrcerns,  external  as 
well  as  internal,  no  longer  renders  the  pursuit  of  incU-1| 
aation  incompatible  with  the  sentiment  of  duty,  or  pro-^ 
priety  ;  and  am  persuaded,  whatever  partiality  may  be 
retaiiied  for  my  services,  that  in  the  present  circum-. 
stances  of  our  country,  you  will  not  disapprove  my* 
determination  to  retire. 

The  impressions,  with  which  I  first  undertook  the 
arduous  trust,  were  explained  on  the  proper  occasion. 
In  the  discharge  of  this  trust,  I  will  only  say,  that  I 
have  with  good  intentions  contributed  towards  the  or-^< 
ganization  and  administration"  of  the  government,  thej 
best  exertions  of  which  a  very  fallible  judgment  wai 
capable.  Not  unconscious,  in  the  outset,  of  the  infe- 
riority of  my  qualifications,  experience  in  my  own  eyes, 
perhaps  still  more  in  the  eyes  of  others,  has  strength- 
ened the  motives  to  diffidence  of  myself:  and  every 
day  the  increasing  weight  of  years  admonishes  me  more 
and  more,  that  the  shade  of  retirement  is  as  necessary 
to  me  as  it  will  be  welcome.  Satisfied  that  if  any  cir- 
cumstances have  given  peculiar  value  to  my  services, 
they  were  temporary,  I  have  the  consolation  to  believe, 
that  while  choice  and  prudence  invite  me  to  quit  the 
political  scene,  patriotism  does  not  forbid  it. 

In  looking  forward  to  the  moment  which  is  intend- J 
ed  to  terminate  the  career  of  my  public  life,  m.y  feel-^ 
ings  do  not  permit  me  to  suspend  the  deep  acknowl-' 
edgment  of  that  debt  of  gratitude  which  I  owe  to  my 
beloved  country,  for  the  many  honors  it  has  conferred^ 
upon  me ;  still  more  for  the  stedfast  confidence  withj 

which] 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  Mi) 

which  it  has  supported  me  ;  and  for  tiie  opportunities  I 
have  thence  enjoyed  of  manifesting  my  inviolable  at- 
tachment, by  services  faithful  and  persevering,  though 
in  usefulness  unequal  to  my  zeal.     If  benefits  have  re- 
sulted to  our  country  from  these  services,  let  it  always 
be  remembered  to  your  praise,  as  an  instructive  exam- 
ple in  our  annals,  that  under  circumstaoces  in  which 
the  passions,  agitated  in  every  direction,  were  liable  to 
mislead ;  amidst  appearances  sometimes  dubious  ;  vicis- 
situdes of  fortune  often  discouraging ;  in  situations  in 
which,  not  unfrcquently,  want  of  success  has  counte- 
I  ^anced  the  spirit  of  criticism  ;  the  constancy  of  your 
support  was  the  essential  prop  of  the  efforts,  and  a 
'guarantee  of  the  plans  by  which  they  were  effected. 
'      Profoundly  penetrated  with  this  idea,  I  shall  carry  it 
I  with  me  to  my  grave,  as  a  strong  incitement  to  unceas- 
I  in^  vows  that  Heaven  may  continue  to  you  the  choicest 
!4okens  of  its  benciiccnce  ;  that  your  union  and  broth- 
icrly  affection  may  be  perpetual ;  that  the  free  consti- 
Itution,  which  is  the  work  of  your  hands,  may  be  sa- 
lly maintained  ;  that  its  administration  in  every  de- 
ancnt  may  be  stomped  with  wisdom  and  virtue ; 
.,  in  fine,  the  happiness  of  the  people  of  these  States, 
:erthe  auspices  of  liberty,  may  be  made  complete, 
so  careful  a  preservation  and  so  prudent  a  use  of  this 
,unjssing,  as  will  acquire  to  them  the  glory  of  recom- 
imendrngit  to  the  applause,  the  affection,  and  adoption 
^very  nation  which  is  yet  a  stranger  to  it. 
though  in  reviewing  the  incidents  of  my  adminis- 
itration,  I  am  unconseious  of  intentional  error;   I  am 
nevertheless  too  sensible  of  my  defects  not  to  think  it 
bable  that  I  may  have  committed   many  errors. 
itever  they  may  be,  I  fervently  beseech  the  Al- 
illy  to  avert  or  mitigate  the  evils  to  which  they 
itend.     I  shall  also  carry  with  mc  the  hope  that  my 
jcountry  will  never  cease  to  view  them  with  indulgence  ; 
iand  after  forty-five  years  of  my  life  dedicated  to  its  ser- 
vice, with  an  upright  zeal-,  the  faults  of  incompetent 
,  ' .•  N2:  '  '.         abrlit'ies 


\50  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

abilities  v/ill  be  consigned  to  oblivion,  as  myself  must 
soon  be  to  the  mansions  of  rest. 

Relying  on  its  kindness  in  this  as  in  othdr  things^ 
and  actuated  by  that  fervent  love  towards  it,  which  i|| 
so  natural  to  a  man  who"  views  in  it  the  native  soil  ot 
himself  and  his  progenitors  for  several  generafions,  T 
anticipate  with  pleasing 'expectation  that  retreat,  in 
which  I  promise  myself  to  realize,  without  alloy,  the 
sweet  enjoyment  of  partaking,  in  the  midst  of  my  fel- 
low-citizens, the  benign  influence  of  good  laws  under 
a  free  government ;  the  ever  favorite  object  of  my 
heart,  and  the  happy  reward,  as  I  trust,  of  our  mutual 
cares,  labors,  and  dangers.. 


Dialogue  on   the  CnoiCE  of  Business  for  Life. 

^ % 

Enter  Edward,  Charley,  and  Thomas. 
FfJ        ,    XT  appears  to  me  high  time  for  us  to  choose 

^^^  '    X  our  business   for  life.     Our  academical 
studies  will  soon  be  completed ;  and  I  wish  to  look 
little  forward..    What  say  you  ?  am  I  right  ? 

Charley,  It  may  be  well  for  you  :  poor  men's  soi 
must  look  out  for  themselves.  My  father  is  able  to  s\M, 
port  me  at  my  ease ;  and  my  maimrta  says  she  woul 
rather  see  me  laid  in  a  coffin  than  shut  up  in  a  study, 
spoiling  my  eyes  and  racking  my  brains,  plodding  over 
your  noj^sensical  minister,  doctor,  and  lawyer  books ; 
a?nd  I  am  sure  she  would  never  have  me  confined  behind 
a  counter,  or  a  merchant's  desk.  She  intends  I  shall  be 
brought  up  a  gentleman*  My  mother  is  of  noble  blood, 
and  she  don't  intend  that  I  shall  disgrace  it. 

Edw,     Pray,  master  Charley,  who  was  the  father  o; 
your  noble-blooded  mother  ? 

Char.  A  gentleman,  I'd  have  you  to  know. 

Edw,     Yes,  a  gentleman  cobler,  to  my  knowledge. 

Char,     Aye,  he  followed  that  business,  to  be  surf, 
sometimes,  to  stop  the  damour  of  the  vulgar.     Then 

pool 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ©RATOR.     151 

poor  people  could  net  bear  to  see  a  rich  man  living  at 
his  ease,  or  give  a  nobleman  his  title.  But  times  are 
altering  for  the  better,  my  mamma  says :  the  rich  be- 
gin to  govern  now.  We  shall  so®n  live  in  style,  and 
wear  titles  here  as  well  as  in  England.  She  intends  to- 
send  over  and  get  my  coat  of  arms,  and  she  hopes  to 
add  a  title  to  them. 

ir  Edw,  High  style!  titles!  and  coats  of  arms!  fine 
things  in  America,  to  be  sure!  Well,  after  all,  I  can't 
really  disapprove  of  your  mamma's  plan.  A  lapstone, 
an  awl,  and  shoe-hammer  will  make  a  fine  picture,  and 
may  appear  as  well  in  your  mother's  parlour,  as  in  her 
father'*  shop :  and  the  title  of  coblcr,  or  shoe-maker 
^would  well  become  her  darling  Charley. 
,  '.  Char*  I  will  not  be  insulted  on  account  of  my  grand- 
father's employment,  I'll  have  you  to  know!  I.  have, 
heard  my  mother  say,  her  father  was  grandson  of  an 
aiint  of 'squire  Thorn,  who  once  had  a  horse  that  run 
a  race  with  the  famous  horse  of  a  cousin  of  the  Duke 
of  Bedford,  of . 

Edw,  Quite  enough !  I  am  fully  convinced  of  the 
justice  of  your  claim  ta  the  title  of  Duke,  or  whatever 
you  please.  About  as  much  merit  in  it,  T  perceive,  as 
in  your  father's  tide  to  his  estate.  Ten  thousand  dol- 
lars drawn  in  a  lottery  !  already  two  thirds  spent.  A 
title  to  nobility  derived  from  the  grandson  of  aa  aunt 
of 'squire  Thorn,  from  'squire  Thorn's  horse,  or  per- 
haps from  some  monkey,  that  has  been  a  favorite  play- 
mate with  the  prince  of  Wales.  These  are  to  be  the 
support  of  your  ease  and  honor  through  life.  Well,  I 
believe  there  is  no  need  of  yoor  troubling  yourself  about 
your  future  employment:  that  is  already  determined. 
Depend  upon  it,  you  will  repent  of  your  folly,  or  scratch 
a- poor  man's  head  as  long  as  you  live.  I  advise  yoa 
to  set  about  the  former,  in  order  to  avoid  the  latter. 

Char.  I  did  not  come  to  you  for  advice.  I'll  not  bear 
your  insults,  or  disgrace  myself  with  your  company  any 
longer.     My  parents  shall  teach  you  better  manners. 

[Exit  Charlcitf, 


152  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Thomas,  I  pity  the  vanity  and  weakness  of  this  poor  4 
lad.  But  reflection  and  experience  will  teach  him  the  \ 
fallacy  of  his  hopes. 

Edw,  Poor  child;  he  does  not  know  that  his  lot- 
tery money  is  almost  gone  ;  that  his  father's  house  is 
mortgaged  for  more  than  it  is  worth ;  and  that  the  only 
care  of  his  parents  is  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  I 
present  grandeur,  at  the  expense  of  future  shame, 
llappy  for  us,  that  we  are  not  deluded  with  such  de- 
ceitful hopes. 

Tho,     My  parents  were  poor ;  not  proud.    They  ex-  . 
pericnced  the  want  of  learning  ;  but  were  resolved  their  jj 
children  should  share  the  benefit  of  a  good  education.  ■• 
I  am  the  fourth  son,  who  owe  the  debt  of  filial  gratitude.. 
All  but  myself  are  well  settled  in  business,  and  doing 
honor  (o  themselves  and  their  parents.     If  I  fall  short 
i^i  theij"  example,  I  shall  be  most  ungrateful. 

EaIio,  I  have  neither  father  nor  mother  to  excite  my 
gratitude,  or  stimulate  my  exertions.  But  I  wish  to- 
behave  in  such  a  manner,  that  if  my  parents  could  look 
down  and  observe  my  actions,  they  might  approve  my 
conduct.  Of  my  family,  neither  root  nor  branch  re- 
mains :  all  have  paid  the  debt  of  nature.  They  left  a 
name  for  honesty  ;.  and  I  esteem  that  higher  than  a  pre-t 
tended  title  to  greatness.  They  have  left  me  a  small 
farm,  which,  though  not  enough  for  my  support,  wilf, 
w^ith  my  own  industry,  be  sufficient.  For  emj^loyment, 
to  pass  av»'ay  the  winter  season,  1  have  determined  upon 
keejjing  a  school  for  my  neighbours'  children. 

Tko.  1  heartily  approve  of  your  determination.^ 
Our  mother  Earth  rewards,  with  .  peace  and  plenty,  w- 
those,  who  cultivate  her  face  ;  but  loada,  with  anxious  I 
cares,  those,  who  dig  her  bowels  for  treasure.  The 
life  you  contemplate  is  favorable  to  the  enjoyment  of 
social  happiness,  improvement  of  the  m-ind,  and  securi- 
ty of  virtue  ;  and  the  task  of  training  the  tender  mind  is 
an  employment,  that  ought  to  meet  the  encourage- 
ment, the  gratitude  of  every  parent,  and  the  respect  of 
every  child.  Edit:* 


THE_C0LUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1^3 

^    j^ow,     I  am  pleased  that  you  approve  my  choice. 
vV  ill  you  frankly  tell  me  yotir  own  ? 

Tho,  I  will :  my  intention  is  to  follow  the  inclina- 

lon  of  my  kind  parents.    It  is  their  desire  that  I  should 

be  a  preacher.     Their  other  sons  have  taken  to  other 

^^  <^lljngs  ;  and  they  wish  to  see  one  of  their  children  in 

the  desiC.     If  their  prayers  are  answered,  I  shall  be 

.    -fitted  for  the  important  task.    To  my  vouth,  it  appears 

formidable ;  but  others,  with  less  advantages,  have  suc- 

-teedca,  and  been  blessings  to  society,  aiid  an  honor  to 

•  tneir  profession. 

I      Ed'v.     You  have  chosen  the  better  part.    Whatever 
f  the  licentious  may  say  to  the  contrary,  the  happiness 
ot  society  must  rest  on  the  principles  of  virtue  and  re- 
ligion ;  and    the   pulpit  must  be  the  nm-serv,  where 
they  are  cultivated. 

TTio. The  pulpit; 

And  I  name  it,  fill'd  with  solemn  awe, 
Must  stand  acknowledgM,  while  the  world  shall  stanel, 
Ifte  most  important  and  effectual  guard, 
J^upport  and  ornament  of  - ;  tue's  cause. 
There  stands  the  messenger  of  truth.     There  stands 
1  he  le,gate  of  the  skies  :  his  theme  divine, 
His  office  sacred,  hig  credentials  clear. 
;  ay  him  the  violated  law  speaks  out 
Its  thunders,  and  by  him,  in  strains  as  sweet 
\?"^^^^  "s^'  the  gospel  whispers  peace." 
My  heart  glows  with  the  subject ;  and  if  my  abilit-'es 
jTOuld  equal  my  zeal,  I  could  at  lea«t  hope  to  realize 
Ahe  sublime  character  so  beautil^.illy  dro.wn  by  Cowper. 
-^  JLdw.     It  is  a  laudable  ambition  to  aim  at  eminence 
*^  religion,  and  excellence  in, virtue. 

Speech 


151  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 


Speech  of  Buonaparte,  Commander  in  Chief  or 
THE  French  Army  in  Italy,  before  his  At- 
tack ON  Milan,  April  26,  17%. 


4 


Soldiers, 

YOU   have  in  a   fortnight  gained    six   victories; 
taken  twcntv-onc  stands  of  colours  ;  seventy-one 
])ieccs  of  cannon"';  several  strong  places ;  conquered 
the  richest  part  of  Piedmont ;  you  have  made  fifteen    ^ 
thousand  prisoners,  and  killed  or  wounded  more  than  ^i 
ten  thousand  men.     You  had  hitherto  fought  only  for  ; 
sterile  rocks,  rendered  illustrious  by  your  courage,  but 
u.^eless  to  the  country  ;  you  have  equalled  by  your  ser-  i 
vices  the  victorious  army  of  Holland  and  the  Khine« 
Deprived  of  every  thin,2;,  you   have  supplied  every 
thins.     You  have  won  battles  without  cannon ;  made 
forced  marches  without  shoes  ;  watched  without  brandy, 
and  often  without  bread.     The  republican  phalanxes, 
the  soldiers  of  liberty  were    lone  capable  of  suflering 
what  you  have  suffered. 

Tiianks  be  to  you,  -soldiers.     The  grateful  country 
AviU,  in  part,  be  indebted  to  you  for  her  prosperity; 
and  if,  vvhen  victorious  ?.i  Toulon,  you  predicted  the 
immortal  campaign  of  1794,  your  present  victories  wili 
be  the  presages  of  moi-e  brilliant  victories.      1  he  tvso 
armies  which  attacked  you  with  audacity,  fly  di--.heart- 
ened  before  vou.     Men,  who  smiled  at  your  inisei-y, -, 
and  rejoiccd'in  thought  at  the  idea  of  the  triumphs  ot 
vour  enemies,  are  confounded  and  appalled.     But  it, 
must  not,  soldiers,  be  concealed  from  you,  that  youi| 
have  done  vothlns:  since  .something  remains  yet  to  be^ 
done.     Neither  1'urin  nor  MiU^n  are  in  your  poweiv 
The  ashes  of  the  conquerors  of  the  Tarqunis  are  stiM 
disgraced  by  the  assassins  of  Basseville.    At  the  com- 
mencement of  the  campaign  you  were  destitute  ot  ev- 
ery thing ;  now  you  are  amply  provided ;  the  m^j^^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     155 

zines  taken  from  your  enemies  arc  numerous  ;  the  ar- 
tillery for  the  field  and  for  besieging  is  arrived. 

Soldiers,  the  country  has  a  right  to  expect  great 
things  from  you  ;  justify  her  expectations.     The  great- 
est obstacles  are  undoubtedly  overcome ;  but  you  have 
still  battles  to  fight,  cities  to  take,  rivers  to  pass.      Is 
there  one  among  you  whose  courage  is  diminished  ?  Is 
there  one  who  would  prefer  returning  to  the  summits 
of  the  Alps  and  the  Appenines  ?  No :  all  burn  with 
J  the  desire  of  extending  the  glory  of  the  French;  to 
'    humble  the  proud  kings  who  dare  to  meditate  putting 
f    us  again  in  chains  ;  to  dictate  a  peace  that  shall  be  glo- 
rious,   and   that  shall  indemnify  the  country  for  the 
immense  sacrifices  which  she  has  made.     All  of  you 
burn  with  a  desire  to  say  on  your  return  to  your  home, 
I  belonged  to  the  victorious  army  of  Italy. 

Friends,   I  promise  this  conquest  to  you  ;  but  there 

is  one  condition  which  you  must  swear  to  fulfil ;  it  is 

to  respect  the  people  whom  you  deliver  ;  to  repress 

the  horrible  pillage  which  some  wTetches,  instigated  by 

our  enemies,  had  practised.     Unless  you  do  this,  you 

will  no  longer  be  the  friends,  but  the  scourges  of  the 

human  race  ;  you  will  no  longer  form  the   honor  of 

the  French  people.     They  will  disavow  you.    Your 

»  victories,  your  successes,  the  blood  of  your  brethren 

■    who  died  in  battle  ;    all,  even  honor  and  glory  will 

be  lost.     With  respect  to  myself ;  to  the  generals  who 

possess  your  confidence,  we  shall  blush  to  command  an 

^-rarmy  without  dicipline,  and  who  admit  no  other  law 

'  than  that  of  force. 

People  of  Italy,  the  French  army  comes  to  break 
your  chains  ;  the  French  peo})le  are  the  friends  of  all 
V  people  ;  come  with  confidence  to  them  ;  your  prop- 
erty, religion,  and  customs  shall  be  respected.  We 
make  war  as  generous  enemies  ;  and  wish  only  to  make 
war  against  the  tyrants  who  oppress  you. 

Mr. 


15«  THE  COLUMBlAxN  ORATOR.  . 

==^===================^  I 

Mr.  Pitt's  Speech,  Nov.  13,  1777,  in  Opposition 
TO  Lord-  Suffolk,  who  proposed  to  Parlia- 
ment TO  employ  THE  INDIANS  AGAINST  THE  AME- 
RICANS ;    AND    WHO    SAID,     IN     THE    CoURSE    OF    THE 

Debate,  that  "  they  had  a  Right  to  use  all 
THE  Means,  that  God  and  Nature  had  put 
INTO  THEIR  Hands,  to  conquer  America.'' 


My  Lohds, 

I  AM  astonished  to  hear  such  principles  confessed! 
I  am  shocked  to  hear  them  avowed  in  this  House, 
or  in  this  country  !  Princi  j)les,  equally  unconstitutional, 
iirimman,  and  unchristian! 

My  lords,  I  did  not  intend  to  have  encroached 
-ain  on  your  attention  ;  but  I  cannot  repress  my  in- 
durnation.  I  feel  myself  impelled  by  every  duty.  My 
lords,  we  are  csilled"  upon  as  members  of  this  House, 
-s  men  as  Christian  men,  to  protest  against  such  notions 
standing  near  the  throne,  polluting  the  ear  of  Majesty. 
''  That  God  and  nature  put  into  our  hands  !"  1  Know 
not  what  ideas  that  lord  may  entertain  of  God  and 
nature ;  but  I  know,  that  such  abominable  principles 
are  equally  abhorrent  to  religion  and  humanity. 

What !  to  attribute  the  sacred  sanction  of  God  anci 
nature  to  the  massacres  of  the  Indian  scalping-knifc : 
to  the  cannibal  savage,  torturing,  murdering,  roasting, 
a.^d  eatin-; 'literally,  my  lords,  eating  the  mangled 
y-r-tims  of  his  barbarous  battles!  Such  horrible  notions 
•^hock  every  precept  of  religion,  divine  or  natura  ,  and 
every  crencrous  feeling  of  humanity.     And,  my    ords, 
they  shock  every  sentiment  of  honor;  they  shock  me 
as  a  lover  of  honorable  war,  and  a  dctester  of  murder- 
ous barbarity.  -u      •  o 
These  abominable  principles,  and  this  more  abomina- 
ble avowal  of  them,  demand  the  most  decisive  indigna- 
tion. I  call  upon  that  Right  Reverend  Bench,  those  holy 
'                                                       ministers 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  157 

ministers  of  the  gospel,  and  pious  pastors  of  our  C:iurch : 
I  conjure  them  to  join  in  the  holy  v/ork,  and  vindicate 
the  religion  of  their  God.  I  appeal  to  the  wisdom  and 
the  law  of  this  learned  bench,  to  defend  and  support 
the  justice  of  their  country.  I  call  upon  the  bishops 
to  interpose  the  unsullied  sanctity  of  their  laicn  ;  upon 
the  learned  judges,  to  interpose  the  purit}  of  their 
ennine,  to  save  us  from  this  pollution.  I  call  upon 
the  honor  of  your  lordships,  to  reverence  the  dignity 
of  your  ancestors,  and  to  maintain  your  own.  I  call 
upon  the  spirit  and  humanity  of  my  country,  to  vindi- 
cate the  national  character,  I  invoke  the  genius  of  the 
constitution. 

From  the  tapestry  that  adorns  these  walls,  the  im- 
mortal ancestor  of  this  noble  lord  frowns  with  indigna- 
tion at  the  disgrace  of  his  country.  In  vain  he  led 
your  victorious  fleets  against  the  boasted  armada  of 
Spain  ;  in  vain  he  defended  and  established  the  honor, 
the  liberties,  the  religion,  the  protestant  religion  of  this 
country,  against  the  arbitrary  cruelties  of  popery  and 
the  inquisition,  if  these  more  than  popish  cruelties  and 
inquisitorial  practices  are  let  loose  among  us ;  to  tuTn 
forth  into  our  settlements,  among  our  ancient  connex- 
ions, friends,  and  relations,  the  merciless  cannibal, 
thirsting  for  tlic  blood  of  man,  woman  and  child  !  to 
send  forth  the  infidel  savage — against  whom  ^  against 
your  protestant  brethren  ;  to  lay  waste  their  country  \ 
to  desolate  their  dwellings,  and  extirpate  their  race 
and  name,  with  these  horrible  bell-hounds  of  savage  war! 

Spain  armed  herself  with  blood-hounds,  to  extirpate 
the  wretched  natives  of  America ;  and  wc  improve  on 
the  inhuman  example  even  of  Spanish  cruelty.  We 
turn  loose  these  savage  hell-hounds  against  our  brethren 
and  countrymen  in  America,  of  the  same  language, 
laws,  liberties,  and  religion  ;  endeared  to  us  by  every 
tie  that  should  sanctify  humanity. 

My  lords,  this  awful  subject,  so  important  to  our 

hons/,  our  constitution,  and  our  religion,  demands  the 

most  solemn  and  effectual  inquiry.      And  I  again  call 

O  upon 


158  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

upon  your  lordships,  and  the  united  powers  of  the  ^ 
State,  to  examine  it  thoroughly,  and  decisively,  and  toi^ 
5tamp  upon  it  an  indelible  stigma  of  the  public  abhor- 
rence.  And  I  again  implore  those  holy  prelates  oi  our 
relidon,  to  do  away  these  initiuitics  kom  among  u?. 
Let  them  perform  a  lustration;  let  them  purity  tl.is 
House,  and  this  country  from  this  sin. 

My  lords,  1  am  old  and  weak,  and  at  present  una- 
ble  to  say  more  ;  but  my  feelings  and  indignation  were 
too  strong  to  have  said  less.  I  could  not  have  slept  this 
night  in  my  bed,  nor  reposed  my  head  on  my  pillow, 
without  giving  this  vent  to  my  eternal  abhorrence  ot 
such  preposterous  and  enormous  principles. 


i 


Dialogue  between  a  School-Master,  and  School- 

COiMMITTEE, 


fN.  B.  The  Author  is  happy  in  believing,  that  the  fol- 
lowing Dialogue  is  applicable  to  but  few  towns  and  lew 
teachers  in  this  country  ;  but,  so  long  as  there  are  any 
remaining  to  zohom  it  may  apply,  he  thinks  a  svjficicnt 
apology  exists  for  its  publication.'] 

SCENE,  a  Public  House,  in  the  Town  of 

Enter  School-Master,  with  a  pack  on  his  back, 

HOW  fare  you,  landlord  ?  what  have 
you  got  that's  good  to  drink  ? 

Landlord.  I  have  gin,  West-In5ia,  genuine  Ncw- 
Eno-land,  whiskey,  and  cider  brandy. 

Schoolm.  Make  us  a  stiff  mug  of  sling.  Put  in  a 
gill  and  a  half  of  your  New-England;  and  sweeten 
ft  well  with  lasses.      •  . 

Land.  It  shall  be  done,  Si.',  to  your  liking. 

Schoolm.  Do  you  know  of  any  vacancy  in  a  school 
in  your  part  of  the  country,  landlord  ?      ^ 

Land.  There  is  a  vacancy  in  our  district ;  and  l^ ex- 
port tho  pardon,  with  our  three  schcol-comrrattce  men. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  lo9 

will  be  at  my  house  directly,  to  consult  upon  matters 
relative  to  the  school. 

Schoohu  Well,  here's  the  lad  that  will  serve  them 
as  cheap  as  any  man  in  America ;  and  I  believe  I  na^ 
venture  to  say  as  tvcII  too ;  for  I  proiess  no  small  share 
of  ^kiU  in  that  business.    1  have  kept  school  eleven  Vvin- 
tors    and  have  often  had  matter  of  fifty  scholars  at  a 
time'.     I  have  teach'd  a  child  its  letters  in  a  day,  and 
to  read  in  the  Fsaher  in  a  fortnight :  and  I  always  feei^ 
verv  much  ashamed,  if  I  use  more  than  one  quire  oi 
paper  in  larnin  a  boy  to  write  as  well  as  his  master. 
As  for  aovernnient,  I'll   turn  my  back  to  no  man.     i 
never  floe  mv  scholars  ;  foi'  that  monstrous  doctrine  o 
whippin  children,  which  has  beeii  'o  long  preached 
and  practised  by  our  rigid  and  super.siiuous  forefathers 
I  have  long  since  exploded.     I  have  a  rare  knack  oi 
flattering  them  into  their  duty.     And  this,   according 
to  a  celebrated  Doctor  at  Philadelphia,  whose  works  1 
have  heard  of,  though  I  never  read  them,  is  the  grand 
criterion  of  school  government.     It  is,  landlord,  it  is 
the  very  philosopher's    stone.     I  am  told,   likewise, 
that  this  same  great  Doctor  does  not  believe  that  bolo- 
mon    and   others  really  meant    licken   in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  when  they  talked  so  much  about 
usincr  the  rod,  &c.     He  supposes  that  they  meant  con- 
fining them  in  dungeons  ;   starving  them  for  three  or 
four  days  at  a  time  ;  and  then  giving  them  a  potion  ol 
tatromattucks,  and  such  kinds    of   mild   punishment. 
And,  zounds,  landlord,  1  believe  he's  above  half  right. 

Land     {living  the  cup  to  the  Master.]    Master-— 
What  may  I  call  your  name,  Sir,  if  1  may  be  so  bold  : 
Schoohyi.  Ignoramus,  at  your  service.  Sir. 
Land.    Master  Ignoramus,   I   am  glad  to  see  you-. 
Vou  are  the  very  man  we  wish  for.     Our  committee 
won't  hesitate  a  moment  to  employ  you,  when  they 
become  acquainted  with  your  talents.      Your   senti- 
ments on  government  I  know  will  suit  our  people  to  a 
nicety.     Our  last  master  was  a  tyrant  of  a  fellow,  and 
very  extravagant  in  his  price.     He-  grew  so  important, 
•^  the 


itiO  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

the  latter  part  of  his  lime,  that  he  had  the  frontery  to 
demand  te7i  doltars  a  month  and  his  board.     And  he 
iriight  truly  be  said  to  rule  with  a  rod  of  iron ;  for  he 
kept  an  ironwood  cudgel  in  his  school,  four  feet  long  ; 
cind  it  was  enough  to  chill  one's   blood  to  hear  the 
!nhrieks  of  the  little  innocents,  which  were  caused  by 
his  barbarity.     I  have  heard  my  wife  sav,  that  Sue 
Gossip  told  her,  that  she  has  seen  the  marks  of  his  lashes 
©n  the  back  of  her  neighbour  Rymple's  son  Darling, 
for  twelve  hours   after  the  drubbing.     At  least,  the 
f)oy  told  her  with  his  own  mouth,  that  they  might  be 
^oen,  if  they  would  only  take  the  trouble  to  strip  his 
-i.irt  off.     And,  besides,  master  Ignoramus,  he  was  the 
iiost  niggardly  of  all  the  human  race.     I  don't  suppose 
rhat  my  bar-room  was  one  dollar  the  richer  for  him, 
in  the  course  of  the  whole  time  which  he  tamed  with 
!is.  While  the  young  people  of  the  towa  were  recreatino- 
themselves,  and  taking  a  sociable  glass,  of  an  evening,  al 
my  house,  the  stupid  blockhead  was  etarnally  in  his 
•:hamber,  poring  over  his  musty  books.     But  finally  he 
did  tho  job  for  himself,  and  I  am  rejoiced.    The  wretch 
had  the  dacity  to  box  little  Sammy.  Puny's  cars  at 
such  an  intolerable  rate,  that  his  parents  fear  the  poor 
child  will  be  an  idiot  all  the  days  of  his  life.     And  all 
this,  for  nothing  more,  than,  partly  by  design,  and  partly 
Through  m.ere  accident,  he  happened  to  spit  in  his  mas- 
ter's face.     The  child  being  nephew  to  the  'squire^ 
you  may  well  suppose,  that  the  whole  neighbourhood 
was  soon  in  an  uproar.    The  indignation  of  the  mother, 
father,  aunts,  uncles,  cousins,  and  indeed  the  whole  cir- 
•le  of  acquaintance,  was  roused  ;  and  the  poor  fellow 
"^s  hooted  out  of  town  in  less  than  twenty-four  hom*s. 
Schuolm,   [Drinkiiig  off  his  liquor,']  This  is  a  rare 
:ose.     Believe  me,  landlord,  I  have  not  tasted  a  drop 
before,  since  six  o'clock  this  morning.     [En^er  Parson 
>md'  Committee  Men.']     Your    humble    sarvant,  gen- 
;lemen.     I  understand  you  are  in  want  of  a  school- 
iTiaster,  '  Parson. 


c 

'yp.  s 


a 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.    161 

Parson.  Yes,  Sir  ;  ihiit  is  the  occasion  of  our  pres- 
ent meeting.  We  have  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  lose 
one  good  man;  and  we   should    be  very  glad  to  fmd 

^^^UL'^Committ^e  Man.  Pray  donU  say  unfortunate. 
Parson.*  I  think  we  may  consider  ourselves  as  very 
fortunate,  in  having  rid  the  town  of  an  extravagant 
coxcomb,  who  was  draining  us  of  all  the  money  we 
could  earn,  to  fill  his  purse,  and  rig  himself  out  witH 

line  clothes.  ,  ,  ,        i    r  „ « 

2d.  Com.  Ten  dollars  a^  month,  and  board,  tor  a 
man  whose  task  is  so  easy,  is  no  small  sum. 

3d.  Com.  1  am  bold  to  affirm,  that  we  can  procure 
a  better  man  for  half  the  money. 

Schoobn.  That  1  believe,  friend  ;  for,  though  1  es- 
teem myself  as  good  as  the  best ;  that  is  to  say  m  the 
common  way;  yet   1   never  ax'd  but   five   dollars   a 

month  in  all  my  life.  .i      «  ?^ 

Par.  For  my  own  part,  whatever  these  gentlemen  s 
opinion  may  be,  1  must  tell  you,  that  I  am  much  les^ 
concerned  4bout  the  wages  we  are  to  give,  than  1  am 
abont  the  character  and  abilities  of  the  man  with  whom 
we  intrust  the  education  of  our  children.  I  had  much 
rather  you  had  said  you  had  received  forty  dollars  a 
month,* than  five.  -^ 

1  St.  Com.  Dear  Sir,  you  are  beside  yourselt.  Y  ou 
will  encourage  the  man  to  rise  in  his  price ;  whereas  1 
was  in  hopes  he  would  have/a//e/i,  afleast  one  dollar. 
Par.  Before  we  talk  any  further  about  the  price,  it 
is  necessary  that  we  examine  the  gentleman  according 
to  law,  in  order  to  satisfy  ourselves  of  his  capability  to 
serve  us.  Friend,  will  you  be  so  obliging  as  to  inform 
us  where  you  received  your  education,  and  what  your 
pretensions  are,  with  respect  to  youi  profession  / 
Schoolm.     Law,  Sir  !  1  never  went  to  college  m  my 

^  %ar.  I  did  not  ask  you  whether  you  had  been  to 
coUe'-rp  or  not.  We  wish  to  know  what  education  you 
have'had  ;  and  ^^ether  your  abiliues  are  such,  as  that 

0  2  y^^, 


*62  THE  COLUMBIA.\  ORATOR  l' 

c:z  ts^tlir  ^"  '-'^'-^  "-^  ^"^-^e  or  a 

ofttm      F,.r '""'"•  '  "'"  S'-  y"--  »  ^hort  history 

flewspaperwi.homltl'  '    "]'^   T"'^'   ''^^'^   'he 

By  this  time  frpK  P  '?  '"?''^  "■^"  '^^"■"'e  words. 
I  enltteral:o  ,  '  fn't  ,e  a™'"'1,  •h%--"'.o„  level. 
years  ;  and  made    nch  nlfi^'  "'''^''^'  ^°"'«"ed  six 

:~s  s„%r'  5~iiV''"'  *'"-™' 

•  JJ  .»->  lorni  how  man,  tori.,  core,  i,  ,oaW  i.kc 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  163 

'"sZl..    1.M  1  kav.,  Sin  .nJ  it  1  k.<i  <-'■  ' 
"fj'"S  ;SS.""K  ,»r.  of  .ho  .-orld  y.. 

"'£ZL. .  ™  .o.  ion,  i»  *.  --iSjixrii; 

£?,t,rrr»irfc5oi;!-co™. 

»xr'V.';»u.sr«fp=:p..oho,.™ 

are  in  the  English  language  ? 

"S;Co*:p!e\feT;irt-asl<hirna^ciuesUon,Parso„. 
"SL^;— IraTl  t::v  the.  all  before  1 
"^ol' t  *'  'S'you  tell  when  the  moon  changes,  ^j 
'^  sSr  No  -  but  I'll  warrant  you,  I  could  soon  tell 
'^/Z'^S^'How  many  varses  are  there  in  the  119th 

^'SoLm.  Ah !  excuse  me  there,  if  you  please,  Sir  ; 
I  nter  mecWlewith  P-toody.  or  metapl^^.c. 

Pnr      Will  vou  te  1  me,  my  friend,  what  is  inc  uii 
feilc"  bllwee'n  tl,.  circumference  and  the  diameter 

°^  'thit""  ■  There  vou  arc  too  hard  for  me  again.     1 


»64  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR 

Z:Z^^';lT  ^=''~''"-'-  l-'-n-  and  there! 

one,  tl,a,  it  woulj  hat:"' ',;'  £  T^^ur  "  T.'^'f  ^"' 
answered  it.  Gentlemen  th^ll,'"'  '"'"'''"^ '° ''^^e 
few  minutes,  for  o^'T,rtirtaT.rr  "'""'^^"^  ^ 

ch  erfully  agre:  t^LplX      '  ^""^  ^  "'^  '  ^'^^" 

a  c4^""- ,te';°''a":cl  C'n'  '  r°"''  *'"'^  ^^'^  ^l^^'"  ^nd 
Pof.    G::l^r^::^Z^^^t'^Sh^t  once. 

own  interest  ?  I  can  savVw  if         ^?"  ""^  ""''"^  '°  >'oi>r, 
satisfied-thattheman  i{      K    ^   ";  "'?'  '  ^^  P^'-f^"'y  ' 

«i>at  he  calls  wS  by ''i':':"'r"°"'""p'"''^^"^ 

;;.  ly  mcapablo  of  instru'cli  g  :'.r    hfld;:"""^/']:^  '°- 
not  who  he  is,  or  wlnt  1,»  ;?    "''-""•J'en.      You  know 

offers  himseff  ot  H't„  ''"^  •''™''   «"  "^ch  he 

against  him  J^t  slnsTbrtlf.r  ' '"'^'^''^f  "^bj^^''"" 
-  avail,  since  y^^  aU  t'el^t  -  "- be  of, 
years  sir  vine  to  nroni.-*.  ,  „  ^  f  i  ■J.^'^  "cen  for 
suitable  for  tlte  Svlom  ^^  '^'"'''  ""^  '"°'-='''- 
«ai"ed  ;  but,  alas  /  we  wpi  '^  '"f  ^  ""'  '  l^^d  ob- 
aspersed  hi    eharact^^r-nvent^dT''^,  •°^''''"•     ^' 

"nu-orthiness,  has  left  us  w"ef  et''  °""  '^°"'''  ^"^  »"' 

-eit^'Ai  oter;'rnrt"o''r^^^^'-^"'-y 

which  they  never  earnedt  bm  it  w^nt  do'^-f  h"°"^^ 
master,  I  dare  en^qo-p    Jii   7  ,,     ^*     The  new 

he  old  one      SlWl  1)1  ^     -'f '  ^'  better  than 
Par      lLr.f    ?  '  ^^^^  ^^^  ^'^  ^01*  his  answer 

•^         iorever  Irom  the  committee.    But  1  must 

tell 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     165 

t^il  you,  yonr  children  will  reap  the  bitter  consequences 
of  such  injudicious  measures.  It  has  always  been 
surprising  lo  me,  that  people  in  general  arc  more  will- 
in^  to  pay  their  money  lor  any  thing  else,  than  tor 
«  the  one  thing  needi^ar,"  that  is,  for  the  education  of 
their  children.  Their  taylqr  must  be  a  workman,  their 
carpenter,  a  workman,  their  hair-dresser,  a  workman, 
their  hosder,  a  workman ;  but  the   instructor  of  their 

children  must work  cheap  !  ^  [Exit  Pardon. 

Re-enter  Sciiool-?vIaster. 

1  St,  Com.  We  have  agreed  to  employ  you^  Sir ;  and 
have  only  to  recommend  to  you,  not  to  follow  the 
steps  of  your  predecessor.  This  is  an  "  age  of  reason  ;" 
and  we  do  not  imagine  our  children  so  stupid,  as  to 
need  the  rod  to  quicken  their  ideas,  or  so  vicious,  as  to 
require  a  moral  lesson  from  the  ferule.  Be  gentle  and 
accommodating,  and  you  have  nothing  to  fear. 

Land.  V\\  answer  for  him.  He's  as  generous  and 
merry  a  lad  as  I've  had  in  my  house  this  many  a  day. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech,  in  AxVswer  to 
Lord  Mansfield,  on  the  Affair  of  Mr. 
Wilkes,   1770. 

My  Lords, 

THERE  is  one  plain  maxim,  to  which  1  have  in- 
variably adhered  through  life  ;  that  in  every 
question  in  which  my  liberty  or  my  property  wore 
concerned,  I  should  consult  and  be  determined  by  tae 
dictates  of  common  sense.  I  confess,  my  lords,  that  I 
am  apt  to  distrust  the  refinements  of  learning,  because 
I  have  seen  the  ablest  and  most  learned  men  equaUy 
liable  to  deceive  themselves,  and  to  mislead  others. 

The  condition  of  human  nature  would  be  lamenta* 
ble  indeed,  if  nothing  less  than  the  greatest  learning 
and  talents,  which  fall  to  the  share  of  so  small  a  num- 
ber of  m«n,  were  sufficient  to  direct  our  judgment  and 

our 


166  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

our  conduct.  But  Providence  has  taken  better  care  of 
our  happiness,  and  given  us,  in  the  simplicity  of  com- 
mon sense,  a  rule  for  our  direction,  by  which  we  shall 
never  be  misled. 

I  confess,  my  lords,  I  had  no  other  guide  in  drawing 
up  the  amendment,  which  I  submitted  to  your  consid- 
eration. And  before  I  heard  the  opinien'of  the  noble 
lord  who  spoke  last,  I  did  not  conceive,  that  it  w^as 
even  within  the  limits  of  possibility  for  the  greatest  hu- 
man genius,  the  most  subtle  understanding,  or  the 
acutcst  wit,  so  strangely  to  misrepresent  my  meaning  ; 
and  to  give  it  an  interpretation  so  entirely  foreign  from 
w^hat  I  intended  to  express,  and  from  that  sense,  which 
the  very  terms  of  the  amendment  plainly  and  distinctly 
carry  with  them. 

If  there  be  the  smallest  foundation  for  the  censure 
thrown  upon  me  by  that  noble  lord  ;  if,  either  express- 
ly or  by  the  most  distant  implication,  I  have  said  or  in- 
sinuated any  part  of  what  the  noble  lord  has  charged 
me  with,  discard  my  opinions  forever;  discard  the 
motion  with  contempt. 

My  lords,  I  must  beg  the  indulgence  of  the  House. 
Neither  will  my  health  permit  me,  nor  do  I  pretend 
to  be  qualified,  to  follow  that  learned  lord  minutely 
through  the  whole  of  his  argument.  No  man  is  better 
acquainted  with  his  abilities  and  learning,  nor  has  a 
greater  respect  ior  them,  than  I  have.  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  sitting  w^ith  him  in  the  other  House,  and 
always  listened  to  him  with  attention.  I  have  not  now 
lost  a  word  of  what  he  said,  nor  did  I  ever.  Upon  the 
present  question,  I  meet  him  without  fear. 

The  evidence,  which  truth  carries  with  it,  is  supe- 
rior to  all  argun)cnts ;  it  neither  wants  the  support, 
noi-  dreads  the  opposition  of  the  greatest  abilities.  If 
there  be  a  single  v.ord  in  the  amendment  to  justify  the 
interpretation,  which  the  noble  lord  has  been  pleased 
to  give  it,  I  am  ready  to  renounce  the  whole.  Let  it 
be  read,  my  lords  ;  let  it  speak  for  itself.  In  what 
instance  does  it  interfere  with  the  privileges  of  the 

House 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     167 

House  of  Commons  ?  In  what  respect  does  it  question 
their  jurisdiction,  or  suppose  an  authority  io  this  House 
lo  arraign  the  justice  of  their  sentence  ? 

I  am  sure  that  every  lord  who  hears  me,  will  bear 
me  witness  that  I  said  not  one  word  touching  the  mer- 
its of  the  Middlesex  election.  Far  from  conveying 
any  opinion  upon  that  matter  in  the  amendment,  I 
did  not,  even  in  discourse,  deliver  my  own  sentiments 
upon  it.  I  did  not  say  that  the  House  of  Commons 
had  done  either  right  or  wrong  ;  but  when  his  Majesty 
was  pleased  to  recommend  it  to  us  to  cultivate  unanim- 
ity amongst  ourselves,  I  thought  it  the  duty  of  this 
House,  as  the  great  hereditary  council  of  the  crown, 
to  state  to  his  Majesty  the  distracted  condition  of  his 
dominions,  together  with  tho  events  which  had  destroy- 
ed unanimity  among  his  subjects. 

But,  my  lords,  I  stated  those  events  merely  as  facts, 
without  the  smallest  addition  either  of  censure  or  of 
opinion.  They  are  facts,  my  lords,  which  I  am  not 
only  convinced  are  ti-ue,  but  w  hich  I  know  are  indis- 
putably true. 

Do  they  not  tell  us,  in  so  many  words,  that  Mr. 
Wilkes,  having  been  expelled,  was  thereby  rendered 
incapable  of  serving  in  that  Parliament  ?  and  is  it  not 
their  resolution  alone,  which  refuses  to  the  subject  his 
common  right  ?  The  amendment  says  farther,  that 
the  electors  of  Middlesex  are  deprived  of  their  free 
choice  of  a  representative.  Is  this  a  fact,  my  lords  ? 
or  have  I  given  an  unfair  representation  of  it  ?  Will 
any  man  presume  to  affirm  that  Colonel  Luttiell  is  the 
free  choice  of  the  electors  of  Middlesex  ?  We  all 
know  the  contrary. 

/  We  all  know  that  Mr.  W'ilkes  (who;n  I  mention 
without  either  praise  or  censure)  was  me  favourite  of 
the  county,  ana  chosen,  by  a  xcry  great  and  acknowl- 
edged majority,  to  represent  them  ii  Parliament.  If 
the  noble  lord  dislikes  the  manner  ii  which  these  facts 
are  stated,  I  shall  think  myself  hai^:)y  in  being  advised 
hy  him  how  to  alter  it.     I  am  ver;  little  anxious  about 

terms, 


168  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

terms,  provided  the  substances  be  preserved  ;  and  thes« 
are  facts,  my  lords,  which  I  am  sure  will  always  retain 
their  weight  and  importance,  in  whatever  form  of  Ian- 
gi?age  they  are  described. 

The  constitution  of  this  country  has  been  openly  in- 
vaded in  fact ;  and  J  have  heard,  with  horror  and  aston- 
ishment, that  very  invasion  defended  upon  principle. 
What  is  this  mysterious  power,  undefmed  by  law,  un- 
known to  the  subject;  which  we  must  not  approach 
without  awe,  nor  speak  of  without  reverence  ;  which 
no  man  may  question,  and  to  which  all  men  must  sub- 
mit ?  My  lords,  I  thought  the  slavish  doctrine  of  pas- 
sive obedience  had  long  since  been  exploded:  and, 
when  our  kings  were  obliged  to  confess  that  their  title 
to  the  crov/n,  and  the  rule  of  their  government,  had 
no  other  foundation  than  the  known  laws  of  the  land, 
I  never  expected  to  hear  a  divine  right,  or  a  divine  in- 
fallibility, attributed  to  any  other  branch  of  the  legis- 
lature. 

My  lords,  I  beg  to  be  understood.  No  man  respects 
the  House  of  Commons  more  than  I  do,  or  would  con- 
tend more  strenuously  than  I  would,  to  preserve  to 
them  their  just  and  legal  authority.  ^  Within  tiie 
bounds  prescribed  by  the  constitution,  that  authority 
is  necessary  to  the  well-being  of  the  people :  beyond 
that  line,  every  exertion  of  poxver  is  arbitrary,  is  ille- 
gal;  it  threatens  tyranny  to  the  people,  and  destruc- 
tion to  the  state.  Power  without  right  is  the  most 
odious  and  detestable  object  that  can  be  offered  to  the 
human  imagination  :  it  is  not  only  pernicious  to  those 
who  are  subject  to  it,  but  tends  to  its  own  destruction. 

tOw 


THE  COLUMBIAN  0RAT0i4  169 


On  the  general  Judgment-Day  ;  from    Dwight^s 
Conquest  of  Canaan. 

MID  these  dire  scenes,  more  awful  scenes  shall  rise  ; 
Sad  nations  quake,  and  trembling  seize  the  skies. 
From  the  dark  tomb  shall  fearful  lights  ascend, 
And  sullen  sounds  the  sleeping  mansion  rend ; 
Pale  ghosts  with  terror  break  the  dreamer's  charm, 
And  death-like  cries  the  listening  world  alarm. 
Then  midnight  pangs  shall  toss  the  cleaving  plains  ; 
Fell  famine  w^anton  o'er  unburied  trains  ; 
From  crumbling  mountains  baleful  flames  aspire  ; 
Realms  sink  in  floods,  and  towns  dissolve  in  fire  ; 
In  every  blast,  the  spotted  plague  be  driven, 
And  angry  meteors  blaze  athwart  the  heaven. 
Clouds  of  dark  blood  shall  blot  the  sun's  broad  light, 
Spread  round  th'  immense,and  shroud  the  Avorld  in  night ; 
With  pale  and  dreadful  ray,  the  cold  moon  gleam  ; 
The  dim,  lone  stars  diffuse  an  anguish'd  beam  ; 
Storms  rock  the  skies  ;  afflicted  oceans  roar. 
And  sanguine  billows  dye  the  shuddering  shore  ; 
And  round  earth  thunder,  from  th'  Almighty  throne, 
The  voice  irrevocable,  IT  IS  DONE. 

Rous'd  on  the  fearful  morn,  shall  nature  hear 
The  trump's  deep  terrors  rend  the  troubled,  air ; 
From  realm  to  realm  the  sound  tremendous  roll ; 
Cleave  the  broad  main,  and  shake  th'  astonish'd  pole ; 
The  slumbering  bones  th'  archangels  call  inspire  ; 
Rocks  sink  in  dust,  and  earth  be  wrapt  in  fire  ; 
From  realms  far  distant,  orbs  unnumber'd  come, 
Sail  through  immensity,  and  learn  their  doom  : 
And  all  yon  changeless  stars,  that,  thron'd  on  high, 
Reign  in  immortal  lustre  round  the  sky, 
In  solemn  silence  shroud  their  livirtg  light. 
And  leave  the  world  to  undistinguished  night. 

Hark,  what  dread  sounds  descending  from  the  pole, 
Wave  following  wave,  in  swelling  thunders  roll ! 

P  How 


i 


170  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

How  the  tombs  cleave !  What  awful  forms  arise  ! 
What  crowding  nations  pain  the  failing  eyes ! 
From  land  to  land  behold  the  mountains  rend ; 
From  shore  to  shore  the  fmal  flames  ascend  ; 
Round  the  dark  poles  with  boundless  terror  reign, 
With  bend  immeasurable  sweep  the  main  ; 
From  morn's  far  kingdoms  stretch  to  realms  of  even 
And  climb  and  climb  with  solemn  roar  to  heaven. 
What  smoky  ruins  wrap  the  lessening  ground ! 
What  fiery  sheets  sail  through  the  vaulted  round ! 
Pour'd  in  one  mass,  the  lands  and  seas  decay ; 
Involv'd,  the  heavens,  dissolving,  fleet  away; 
The  moon  departs  ;  the  sun's  last  beams  expire, 
And  nature's  buried  in  the  boundless  fire. 

Lo,  from  the  radiance  of  the  blest  abode 
Messiah  comes,  in  all  the  pomp  of  God  ! 
Borne  on  swift  winds,  a  storm  before  him  flies  ;^ 
Stars  crown  his  head,  and  rainbows  round  him  rise  ; 
Beneath  his  feet  a  sun's  broad  terrors  burn, 
And  cleaving  darkness  opes  a  dreadful  morn : 
Through  boundless  space  careering  flames  are  driven  ; 
Truth's  sacred  hosts  descend,  and  all  the  thrones  of 

heaven. 
See  crowding  millions,  call'd  from  earth's  far  ends, 
See  hell's  da'i'k  world,  with  fearful  gloom,  ascends, 
In  throngs  incomprehensible  !     Around, 
Worlds  after  worlds,  from  nature's  farthest  bound* 
Call'd  by  th'  archangel's  voice  from  either  pole, 
Self-mov'd,  with  all  created  nations,  roll. 
From  this  great  ti-ain,  his  eyes  the  just  divide, 
Price  of  his  life,  and  being's  fairest  pride; 
Rob'd  by  his  mighty  hand,  the  starry  throngs 
From  harps  of  transport  call  ecstatic  songs. 
Hail,  heirs  of  endless  peace  !  ordain'd  to  rove 
Round  the  pure  climes  of  everlasting  iove. 
For  you  the  sun  first  led  the  lucid  morn  ; 
The  world  was  iashion'd  and  Messiah  t)orn  ; 
For  you  high  heavcu  v/ith  fond  impatience  waits, 
Paurs  her  tair  streams,  and  opes  her  golden  gates  ; 

'  Eac 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     171 

Ji^ach  hour,  with  purer  glory,  gaiiy  shines, 
Her  courts  enlarges,  and  her  air  refines. 

But  O  unhappy  race !  to  woes  consignM, 
Lur'd  by  fond  pleasure,  and  to  wisdom  blind, 
What  new  Messiah  shall  the  spirit  save, 
Stay  the  pent  flames,  and  shut  th'  eternal  grave? 
Where  sleeps  the  music  of  his  voice  divine  ? 
Where  hides  the  face,  that  could  so  sweetly  shine  ? 
Now  hear  that  slighted  voice  to  thunder  turn  ! 
See  that  mild  face  with  flames  of  vengeance  burn ! 
High  o'er  your  heads  the  storm  of  ruin  roars, 
And,  round  th*'  immense,  no  friend  your  fate  deplores. 

Lo,  there  to  endless  woe  in  throngs  are  driven, 
What  once  were  angels,  and  briglu  stars  of  heaven  ! 
The  world's  gay  pride !  the  king  with  splendor  crown'd  f 
The  chief  resistless,  and  the  sage  renown'd  ! 
Down,  down,  the  millions  sink  ;  where  yon  broad  main 
Heaves  her  dark  waves,  and  spreads  the  seats  of  pain  ; 
Where  long,  black  clouds,  emblaz'd  with  awful  fire, 
Pour  sullen  round  their  heads,  and  in  dread  gloom  retire. 


On  the  works  of  Creation  and  Providence. 


T/^HEN  I  contemplate  those  ample  and  magnifi- 
cent structures,  erected  over  all  the  ethereal 
plains  :  when  I  look  upon  them  as  so  many  reposito- 
ries of  light,  or  fruitful  abodes  of  life  :  when  I  remem- 
ber that  there  may  be  other  orbs,  vastly  more  remote 
than  those  which  appear  to  our  unaided  sight ;  orbs, 
whose  cftulgence,  though  travelling  ever  since  the  cre- 
ation, is  not  yet  arrived  upon  our  coasts:  when  I  stretch 
,tny  thoughts  to  the  innumerable  orders  of  being,  which 
inhabit  all  those  spacious  systems  ;  fi'om  the  loftiest  ser- 
aph, to  the  lowest  reptile  ;  from  the  armies  of  angels 
v-hich  surround  the  Almighty's  throne,  to  the  puni/  na- 
tions, which  tinge  with  purple  the  surface  of  the  plum. 
or  mantle  the  standing  pool  with  green ;  how  varioMS 

appear 


172  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. - 

appear  the  links  of  this  immeasurable  chain !  how  vast 
the  gradations  ia  this  universal  scale  of  existence  !  Yet 
all  these,  thouj;-h  ever  so  vast  and  vai'ious,  arc  the  work 
of  the  Creator's  hand,  and  are  full  of  his  presence. 

He  rounded  in  his  palm  those  stupendous  globes, 
Avhich  are  pendulous  in  the  vault  of  heaven.  lie  kin- 
dled those  astonishingly  bright  fires,  which  till  the  firma- 
ment with  a  flood  of  giory.  By  Him  they  are  suspend- 
ed in  fluid  ether,  and  cannot  be  sha]<en  :  by  Him  they 
dispense  a  perpetual  tide  of  beams,  and  are  never  ex- 
hausted. He  formed,  with  inexpressible  nicety,  that 
<lelicately  line  ccllectioi3  of  tubes  ;  that  unknown  mul- 
tiplicity of  subtle  springs,  which  organize  and  actuate 
the  frame  of  the  minutest  insect. 

He  bids  the  crimson  current  roll  ;  the  vital  move- 
ments play  ;  and  associates  a  world  of  wonders^  even  in 
an  animated  point.  In  all  these  is  a  signal  exhibition 
of  creating  power  :  to  all  these  are  extended  the  special 
regards  of  preserving  goodness.  From  hence  let  me 
learn  to  rely  on  the  providence,  and  to  revere  the  pres- 
ence, of  Supreme  Majesty.  Amidst  that  inconceivable 
number  and  variety  of  beings,  which  swarm  through 
the  regions  of  creation,  not  one  is  overlooked,  not  one 
is  neglected,  by  the  great  Omnipotent  Cause  of  all. 


Speech  of  Mr.  Fox,  in,  the  British  Parliament, 
ON  American  Affairs,  1778. 

YOU  have  now  two  wars  before  you,  of  which  you 
must  choose  one,  for  both  you  cannot  support. 
The  war  against  America  has  hitherto  been  carried  on 
against  her  alone,  unassisted  by  any  ally  whatever. 
Notwithstanding  she  stood  alone,  you  have  been  obliged 
uniformly  to  increase  your  exertions,  and  to  push  your 
efforts  to  the  extent  of  your  power,  without  being  able 
to  bring  it  to  an  issue.  You  have  exerted  all  your  force 
hitherto  without  effect,  and  you  cannot  now  divide  a 
f©rce,  found  alrssady  inadequate  to  it-s  ©bject. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  173 

My  opinion  is  for  withdi-awing  your  forces  from 
America  entirely  ;  for  a  defensive  war  you  can  never 
think  of  there.  A  defensive  war  would  ruin  this  nation 
at  any  time ;  and  in  any  circumstances,  offensive  war 
is  pointed  out  as  proper  for  this  country  ;  our  situation 
points  it  out ;  and  the  spirit  of  the  nation  impels  us  to 
attack  rather  than  defend.  Attack  France,  then,  for 
she  is  your  object.  The  nature  of  the  wars  is  quite  dif- 
ferent :  the  war  against  Amei'ica  is  against  your  own 
countrymen  ;  you  have  stopped  me  from  saying  against 
your  fellow  subjects ;  that  against  France  is  against 
your  inveterate  enemy  and  rival.  Every  blow  you  sti-^kc 
in  America  is  against  yourselves ;  it  is  against  all  idea 
of  reconciliation,  and  against  your  own  interest,  though 
you  should  be  able,  as  you  never  will  be,  to  force  them 
to  subm.it.  Every  stroke  against  France  is  of  advantage 
to  you  :  America  must  be  conquered  in  France  ;  Fra.nce 
never  can  be  conquered  in  America. 

The  war  of  the  Americans  is  a  war  of  passion  ;  it  is  of 
such  a  nature  as  to  be  supported  by  the  most  powerful 
virlucs,  love  of  liberty  and  of  their  country  ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  by  those  passions  in  the  human  heart  which 
give  courage,  strength,  and  perseverance  to  man  ;  the 
spirit  of  revenge  for  the  injuries  you  have  done  them ; 
of  retaliation  for  the  hardships  you  have  inflicted  on 
them ;  and  of  opposition  to  the  unjust  powers  you  have 
exercised  over  them.  Every  thing  combines  to  animate 
them  to  this  war,  and  such  a  war  is  without  end ;  for 
whatever  obstinacy,  enthusiasm  ever  inspired  man  with, 
you  will  now  find  in  America.  No  matter  what  gives 
birth  to  that  enthusiasm  ;  whether  the  name  of  religion 
or  of  liberty,  the  effects  are  the  same  ;  it  inspires  a  spirit 
which  is  unconquerable,  and  solicitous  to  undergo  dif- 
ficulty, danger,  and  hardship  :  and  as  long  as  there  is 
a  man  in  America,  a  being  formed  such  as  we  are,  you 
will  have  him  present  himself  against  you  in  the  field. 

The  war  of  France  is  a  war  of  another  sort ;  the  war 
©f  France  is  a  war  of  interest :  i^  was  her  interest  which 
first  induced  her  to  engage  in  it,  and  it  is  by  that  inter- 
¥2  est. 


174  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

est  that  she  will  measure  its  continuance.  Turn  your 
face  at  once  against  her  ;  attack  her  wherever  she  is 
exposed  ;  crush  her  commerce  v^^herever  you  can  ;  make 
her  feel  heavy  and  immediate  distress  throughout  the 
nation :  the  people  will  soon  cry  out  to  their  govern- 
ment. Whilst  the  advantages  she  promises  herself  are 
remote  and  uncertain,  inflict  present  evils  and  distresses 
upon  her  subjects  :  the  people  will  become  discontented 
and  clamorous ;  she  will  find  it  a  bad  bargain,  having 
entered  into  this  business ;  and  you  will  force  her  to 
desert  any  ally  that  brings  so  much  trouble  and  distress 
upon  her. 

What  is  become  of  the  ancient  spirit  of  this  nation? 
Where  is  the  national  spirit  that  ever  did  honor  to  this 
country?  Have  the  present  ministry  spent  that  too, 
with  almost  the  last  shilling  of  your  money  ?  Are  they 
not  ashamed  of  the  temporizing  conduct  they  have  used 
towards  France  ?  Her  correspondence  with  America 
has  been  clandestine.  Compare  that  with  their  conduct 
towards  Holland,  some  time  ago  ;  but  it  is  the  charac- 
teristic of  little  minds  to  be  exact  in  little  things,  whilst 
they  shrink  from  their  rights  in  great  ones. 

The  conduct  of  France  is  called  clandestine :  look 
back  but  a  year  ago  to  a  letter  from  one  of  your  Sec* 
retaries  of  State  of  Holland  ;  '*  it  is  with  surprise  and 
indignation"  your  conduct  is  seen,  in  something  done 
by  a  petty  governor  of  an  island,  while  they  affect  to 
call  the  measures  of  France  clandestine.  This  is  the 
way  that  ministers  support  the  character  of  the  nation, 
^nd  the  national  honor  and  glory.  But  look  again  how 
that  same  Holland  is  spoken  of  to-day.  Even  in  yotir 
correspondence  with  her  your  littleness  appears. 

From  this  you  may  judge  of  your  situation ;  fro] 
Hiis  you  may  know  what  a  state  you  are  reduced  to: 
ilow  will  the  French  party  in  Holland  exuU  over  you, 
and  grow  strong  !  She  will  never  continue  your  ally, 
when  you  meanly  crouch  to  France,  and  do  not  dare 
to  stir  in  your  defence  !  But  it  is  nothing  extraordinary 
that  she  should  not,  while  vou  keep  the  ministers  you 

hav  ' 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  175 

have.  No  power  in  Europe  is  blind ;  there  is  none 
blind  enough  to  ally  itself  with  weakness,  and  be- 
«ome  partner  in  bankruptcy;  there  is  no  one  blind 
enough  to  ally  themselves  to  obstinacy,  absurdity,  and 
imbecility. 


The  Conjurer,  a  Dialogue. 

Richard  and  Jack. 

T  '^h  '\l^^^  ^  strange  man  this  is,  Richard!  Did: 
flc  .  y  y     ^.^^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^  conjurer  before  ? 

Richard.  'There  was  one  travelled  this  way  before 
your  remembrance  ;  but  he  missed  his  figure  very  much. 
I  was  to  have  been  an  otiicer  before  this  time,  accord- 
ing to  his  predictions;  and  you,  Jack,  were  to  have 
had  a  fine  rich  young  lady  for  your  sister-in-law.  But 
he  was  only  an  apprentice  in  the  art ;  no  more  than 
A,  B,  C,  to  this  man. 

Jhck.  Aye,  he  is  master  of  his  trade,  I  warrant 
you.  I  dare  say,  when  father  comes  home,  he  can  tell, 
him  which  way  the  thief  is  gone  with  our  old  Trot. 
Uncle  Bluster  is  coming  over  here  this  evening  to  find 
out  who  has  got  his  watch.  The  conjurer  is  just 
gone  out  to  look  at  the  stars.  I  suppose,  after  he  has 
viewed  them  a  while,  he  will  cast  a  ligure  in  his  great 
black-art  book  in  the  other  room,  aad  tell  in  a  trice 
what  things  are  stolen,  and  where  they  are,  to  a  hair's 
breadth. 

.  Rich.  He  must  have  a  hawk's  eye  to  see  the  stan 
this  evening.  Why  don't  you  know.  Jack,  it  is  cloudy 
out  a'doors  ? 

'   Jack,     That's  nothing   with  him.     He  could  look 
through  the  clouds  with  h;s  glass,  if  it  was  as  dark  as 
Egypt,  as  easy  as  you  can  look  into  the  other  room  ;  or,^ 
if  he  had  a  mind,  he  could  brush  away  the  clouds  in  a 
trice,  with  that  long  wand  he  carries  in  his  hand. 

Rich,  No  doubt  he  is  a  great  almanac  maker.  ^  V\\ 
be  bouftd  he  could  foretel  the  weathjer  to  a  tittle  for  a 

thousand 


m  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  \ 

thousand  years  to  come.     I  wish  I  knew  the  tenth  part 
as  much  about  the  planets  as  he  docs. 

Jack,  So  do  I.  Don't  you  think  our  neighbours 
could  hire  him  to  keep  our  school,  instead  of  'Master 
Thinkwell  ?  I  believe  he  has  fifty  times  as  much  learn- 
ing. Aunt  Betty  told  me  this  afternoon,  that  he  knew. 
every  star  in  the  sky  as  well  as  I  do  the  cattle  ia  our 
stable  ;and  that  he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  every 
crook  and  turn  in  the  milky- way,  as  I  am  with  the 
road  to  mill.  They  say  he  rode  round  to  all  the  plan-- 
ets  one  night,  in  a  chaise  made  of  moon-light,  drawn 
by  flying  horses.  1 

Conjurer.     \^W{tho}it,  in  a  grum  hollovt  voice,^    Hoc  ' 
noxe    conventio    planetorum    tenetur    est  in    domus 
Jovum. 

Rich,  Hark!  he  is  going  by  the  window :.  don't 
you  hear  him  talking  to  himself? 

Jack,     What  a  strange  language  he  uses  I     He  is 
talking  to  the  man  in  the  moon,  1  dare  say.     He  will- 
go  into  the  back  room  and  cast  a  figure  now  :  I  will  look., 
through  the  key-hole  and  see  him.     [Exit  Jack,  t 

Rich,     \_Solus.']  What  a  prodigious  learned  man  this  ^ 
conjurer  must  be  !  I  should  suppose  he  had  read  ail  the 
books  in  the  world,  and  •onversed  with  spirits  a  hun- 
dred years,  to  know  as  much  as  he  does. 
Enter  Thinkwell. 

lam  glad  to  see  you.  Master  Thinkwell.    Have  you- 
heard  the  rare  news  of  the  conjurer  that  is  come  to 
town  ? 

Thinkwell,  Yes ;  and  I  am  informed  he  has  taken 
up  lodgings  at  your  house  to-night.  You  are  greatly 
honored  to  be  sure. 

Rich,  He  is  a  very  extrao^inary  man,  I'll  assure  you. 

Think,  So  far  I  agree  with  you,  Richard.    I  believe^ 
he  is  an  extraordinary  man,  and  an  extraordinary  im- 
postor too. 

Rich,  You  are  always  on  the  side  of  contraries,  Mas- 
ter Thinkwell ;  but  every  body  is  not  of  so  stubborn 
Ibiith  as  you.     Why,  there  is  as  great  a  st^  m.  town  as 

there 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     177 

'there  wos  when  Prince  Edward  v/ent  through  it.  All 
the  ladies  are  as  miich  in  the  fidgets  to  see  the  con- 
jurer, as  they  were  to  sec  him. 

Think.  It  is  much  easier  to  account  for  those  things 
than  to  justify  them.  We  shall  always  act  beneath  our- 
selves, while  we  look  up  to  worthless  wTCtchcs  as  our 
superiors.  Prince  Edward  was  certainly  no  more  than  a 
man.  This  conjurer,  in  my  opinion,  is  much  less  :  I 
consider  him  beneath  co»  tempt.  I  am  as  great  a 
friend  to  mirth  as  yourself;  but  it  is  really  mortifying 
•that  my  friends  should  be  so  anxious  to  make  them- 
selves the  objects  of  ridicule. 

Rich,  This  is  your  old  strain,  Master  Think  well. 
I  know  you  are  apt  to  get  round  me  in  your  arguments  ; 
but  I  believe  the  conjurer  knows  much  more  than  both 
of  us.  I  might  go  to  you  to  learn  grammar,  arithmetic, 
and  the  common  bra^iches  that  arc  taught  at  school ; 
but  I  shall  go  to  him  to  have  my  fortune  told. 

Think,  Have  patience ;  and  time,  the  only  true 
fortune-teller,  will  disclose  the  future,  v/ithout  any  paj^ 
fast  enough  for  your  happiness  or  profit.  Let  me  ad- 
vise you  to  lay  out  your  money  for  more  valuable  com- 
modities than  such  gross  imposition.  Believe  me,  Rich- 
ard, this  man  was  never  admitted  into  the  cabinet  of 
futurity  any  more  than  you  or  I,  and  knows  no  more 
of  the  events  of  to-morrow,  next  day,  or  next  year, 
than  the  orang  outang. 

Rich.  Allour  neighbours  think  very  difierendy.  He 
has  told  Mrs.  Primblc  where  she  may  find  her  silver 
spoon  ;  and  Sam  Hodkins,  the  very  day  he  is  to  be 
married  ;  and  the  very  first  moment  he  cast  his  eyes  on 
Bill  Blunders  face,  he  saw  the  scar  on  his  foot,  and 
ytold  him  he  had  been  wounded  with  an  axe. 
'  Tliink.  Depend  on  it,  Richard,  it  is  all  gross  impo- 
sition. What  carel(*ss  lad  is  there,  who  uses  an 'axe, 
that  has  not  a  scar  on  his  feet  ? 

Rich,  If  a  man  of  common  learning  can  foretel  what 
is  pa?t,  I  don't  see,  for  my  pcu't,  wliy  a  conjurer  may 

not 


178  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

liot  foretel  what  is  to  come.  [K'no eking  at  the  door,], ^ 
Ah  !  Aunt  Betty  Wrinkle,  I  know  by  her  rap. 
Enter  Betty  Wrinkle. 
Bdty,    Hov/   do    you   do,  Richard?    a  word  with 
you,  if  you   please,  *cousin.    [To  Pkhard,     They  go 
'to  the  other  side  of  the  room,]   h  the  fortune-teller  at 
your  house,  Richard? 

Rich.  He  is  casting  a  figure  in  the  back  rooDi. 
Betty,  Can  I  sec-  him  ?  1  wish  to  ask  him  a  few  ques- 
tions in  private.  _  |' 
Enter  Mrs.  Credulous  anc?  Jack,  in  haste,  ^ 
Mrs,  Credulous.  Law,  sister  Betty  !  I  am  glad  to  see 
you  !  I  am  half  frighted  out  of  my  senses  ! 
Betty,  What  is  the  matter,  sister  ? 
Mrs,   Cred,  I  have  been  looking  through  the  key- 
hole to  see  the  conjurer.     I  believe  there  is  a  spell  of 
enchantment   upon   him  !    The   room  will  be  full  of 
spirits  in  five  minutes  ! 

Betty,  O,  don't  be  frighted,  sister ;  if  he  can  conjure 
them  up,  he  can  conjure  them  down  again.  He  won't 
let  them  hurt  you.  I  shouldn't  be  afraid  to  go  right 
into  the  room  among  them,  not  L 

Rich,  If  they  were  to  come  in  the  shape  of  widow- 
ers or  old  bachelors,  perhaps  you.  would  not. 

Betty,  Law,  how  you  joke,  cousin.   [Cuffing  his  ears, 

Mrs,  Cred.  This  is  no  jesting  matter,  1  assure  you. 

I  co\ild  .%ce  plainly  the  candle  burnt  blue ;  there  was  a 

circle  of  fire  round  his  head,  and  it  began  to  smoke 

©ut  of  his  mouth  and  nose. 

Bet,  Poh  !  nothing  more  than  his  breath,  Idare  say. 
Jack,  And  1  thought  I  saw  the  shadow  of  a  spirit. 
The  cat  sav/  it  too  ;  for  she  looked  as  wild  as  though 
she  would  fly  out  of  the  window. 

Betty,  Weil,  you  won't  frighten  me^    I  am  determin- 
ed to  see  him,  if  he  breathes  nothing  but  fire  and  smoke. 
Conj,    [Speaking  loud   in  the  other  room,]  Horum 
qworum  spiritorum,  veniunto ! 

Mrs.  Cred,  Law  me  !  the   very   ghosts   are   come 

novf !  he  ia  talking  to  them, 

Thmki 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     179 

Think,  They  will  never  understand  him,  unless  he 
uses  better  Latin. 

Mrs,  Cred,  O,  good  master  Think  well !  you  can 
talk  Latin;  do  go  and  pray  them,  for  mercy's  sake! 
beseech  them  to  leave  the  house.     Do,  quick ! 

Think,  Do  compose  yourself,  Mrs.  Credulous  :  there 
are  no  worse  spirits  here  than  ignorance  and  folly ;  and 
they,  of  all  others,  are  the  most  incorrigible.  If  you 
please,  I  will  go  and  turn  this  scape-gallows  out  of 
your  house,  and  put  an  end  to  your  fears.         {Going, 

Mrs,  Cred,  O,  stop!  don't  think  of  such  a  thing 
for  the  world.  If  you  should  aftront  him,  he  would 
raise  a  tempest  and  carry  the  house  away  in  a  minute. 
Mercy  on  me !  he  knows  what  you  have  said  now ! 
how  dark  it  grows  !  O,  the  wind  begins  to  rise  !  I 
will  leave  the  house !  we  shall  all  be  flying  in  the  air 
in  an  instant! 

Rich,  Don't  be  so  terrified,  ma'am.  I  don't  hear 
any  wind. 

Jack,  I  do ;  and  see  it  too.  [Looking  out  at  the  win- 
dow.]  Dear  me  !  how  black  it  is  ! 

Betti/,  You  are  very  much  frighted,  sister.  For 
my  part,  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  conjurer  or  any  other 
man. 

Rich,  You  were  never  quite  so  shy  6f  them  as  they 
are  of  you. 

Betty,  Shy  of  me  ! 

Mrs,  Cred,  Well,  you  must  all  take  care  of  your- 
selves. I  will  run  over  to  Mr.  Rector's  the  minister* 
He  may  save  the  house ;  he  is  a  good  man.  What 
would  I  give,  if  I  had  never  seen  this  wicked  conjurer ! 
[Going  out  of  the  door,]  Mercy !  the  ground  rises  up 
under  my  feet;  I  can  almost  hear  it  thunder!  Dear 
me,  I  shall  meet  a  spirit !  Master  Thinkwell,  you  are 
not  apt  to  be  frighted  ;  do  go  with  me  to  the  minister's. 

Think,  At  your  request  I  will.  Tor  your  credit's 
sake,  compose  yourselves,  and  let  not  this  shameful  af- 
fair be  related  abroad.  [Exit  ThinkwclL 

Baty, 


130  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Betty,  Vm  sure  I  don't  see  any  cause  for  all  this 
flu  Iteration. 

Jack,  I  believe  I  was  more  scared  than  hurt.  The 
cat,  I  see,  has  got  over  her  fright :  she  is  playing  in 
the  entry  as  sprightly  as  you,  aunt  Betty. 

Betty,  Well  said,  Jack.  [Patting  his  cheeks,']  Do 
you  think  I  could  speak  with  the  conjurer  now,  Rich- 
ard ? 

Rich,  I  see  nothing  of  any  spirits  yet.  We  will 
venture  to  go  and  see  what  he  is  about. 

[They  go  out  of  the  room, 

SCENE  changes,  and  discovers  the  Conjurer  sitting  at 
a  table  and  making  characters  in  a  large  book.  He 
rises,  takes  his  zvand,  and  moves  it  slowly  round  a 
large  circle,  drawn  on  thejioor,  and  filled  with  char' 
acters, 

Betty,  [Advancing  slowly,]  Law  me,  my  heart  is  in 
my  mouth  !  I  dare  riot  speak  to  him.  [She  staiids  and 
looks  at  him,  and  on  Richard  and  Jack  at  the  other  side 
of  the  room  alternately.] 

Conj,  Horum  charactarius  in  hoc  circulum  omnes 
planetorum  atque  eorum  inhabitantibilsque  recto  repre- 
sentur ;  et  atque  genii  spiritonimque. 

Betty.  Bless  me  !  what  a  world  of  learning  he  has  ! 
I  can't  understand  a  word  he  says. 

Jack,  [To  Richard.]  That  circle  u  full  of  spirits,  1 
suppose^  He  has  made  them  put  on  their  coats  of  air, 
that  we  might  not  see  thcnii 

Conj.  I  perceive,  lady,  by  the  mystic  characters  of 
this  circle,  you  approach  this  way  to  inquire  into  the 
occult  mysteries  of  fate,  and  to  know  of  me  your  future 
destiny. 

Betty,  He  knows  my  very  thoughts.  [Aside,]  Learn- 
ed Sir,  be  so  good  as  to  take  this,  and  answer  me  a 
few  questions  I  shall  ask  you. 

[Offering  him  a  piece  of  money  i 

Conj,  You  must  first  answer  me  a  few  questions. 
Your  name,  Madam  ? 

Betty* 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     181 

Betty,  Elizabeth  Wrinkle,  at  your  service,  Sir. 

Conj,  [Writing  her  name  in  his  book,']  Do  you  rec- 
ollect whether  the  day  that  Burgoyne  was  captured 
was  clear  or  cloudy  ? 

Betti/.  That  was  quite  before  my  remembrance,  Sir. 
[Looki?ig  in  a  glass,]  I  am  sure  nobody  could  take  me 
for  more  than  tweiity-five.  [Aside, 

Co,j.  I  am  not  to  be  deceived,  madam. 

[Looking  out  at  the  zuindozu  through  his  glass. 

Jack,  [To   Richard,]    Hark !    we    shall    know   her 
age  now.  He  looks  clear  through  time,  with  that  glass, 
as  easy  as  you  can  look  through  a  key-hole. 
,    Betti/,  Good  Sir,  don't  expose  me  !  pray  speak  low. 

Conj,  Young  men,  withdraw,  and  shut  that  door. 

[Richard  and  Jack  leave  the  room, 

I  told  you  I  was  not  to  be  deceived.  You  were  born, 
Anno  Domini,  one  thousand,  seven  hundred  and — 

Betty,  Law  me  !  how  should  he  know  I  was  born  in 
fifty-five  ?  The  treacherous  stars  miist  have  betrayed 
me  ;  not  my  looks,  1  am  sure.  [Aside, 

Conj.  I  tell  you  furthermore,  the  very  man,  w^hom 
the  fates  had  singled  out  for  your  husband,  by  the  fatal 
destiny  of  the  stars,  was  slain  at  the  taking  of  Burgoyne. 

Betty,  Dear  me!  O  cruel  stars,  and  more  cruel 
Britons  !  how  many  husbands  and  wives  have  ye  sep- 
arated !  Were  it  not  for  you,  I  should  have  been  mar- 
ried twenty  years  ago.  But  since  the  fates  have  been 
so  very  cruel,  don't  you  think  they  will  be  so  kind  as 

to  provide  me you  know,  what  1  mean,  Mr.  Con- 

juier. 

Conj.  Another  husband.     I  will  inquire. 

[Moving  his  zcand  round  the  circle* 
Enter  Mr,  Credulous  and  Bluster. 

Betty,  Law,  brother,  you  have  come  in  the  very, 
nick  of  time.  I  was  just  going  to  ask  the  Conjurer 
about  your  horse. 

Conj,  By  the  mysterious  numbers  of  this  circle,  and 
the  hidden  virtue  of  this  wand,  I  perceive  you  have 
lost  a  horse.  Cred. 


182  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  1 

Cred,  You  have  cast  your  figure  right.  My  poor 
Trot  has  been  gone  ever  since  the  twentieth  day  of 
June. 

Conj.  [Moving  his  wand  over  the  circle^  and  touching 
particular  characters.  Aries,  Taurus,  Gemini,  Can- 
cer ;  that  is  it  precisely.  You  are  under  a  little  mis- 
take, Sir ;  it  was  on  the  twentieth  night  of  June. 

Bluster,  You  are  right,  you  arc  right,  Mister  Con- 
jurer.    The  same  night  I  had  my  watch  stolen. 

Conj,  Aries,  March  ;  Taurus,  April  ;  Gemini,  May; 
Cancer,  June.  On  the  night  of  June  tv;entieth,  pre- 
cisely at  twenty-three  minutes  past  twelve,  the  horse 
was  stolen  from  your  pasture,  by  a  thief. 

Blust,  There,  brother  Credulous,  you  have  it  as 
exact  as  the  multiplication  table. 

Cred,  Strange  what  learning  will  do !  [Giving 
a  piece  of  money  to  the.  Conjurer,'^  Now,  Sir,  be  so 
good  as  to  tcA^  me  vhere  the  horse  is,  and  how  I  shall 
find  the  very  mief.     Rascal !  I  shall  have  you  now. 

[To  himself i 

Conj,  [Making  characters  in  his  book,]  The  stars 
are  inauspicious  at  present.  Mercury,  the  patron  of 
thieves,  bears  rule  to-night.  I  shall  be  able  to  detect 
him  to-morrow\  Hah !  that  is  a  lucky  figure.  Quod 
erat  demonstrandum.  I  have  got  a  clue  to  the  watch 
in  .spite  of  Mercury. 

Blust.  Put  me  in  a  way  of  finding  it,  and  you  shall  be 
Wdii  paid.  We  must  secure  our  houses,  brother  Cred- 
ulous, or  this  rogue  of  a  Mercury  Vv-ill  h^ve  our  very 
beds  from  under  us,  before  morning. 

Conj,  It  shall  be  forth  coming  immediately.    [Figure 

ing  in  his  look,']    One  hundrcdand  twenty-seven  rods 

northeasterly  from  this  table,  in  Chinese  measure,  lies  a 

hollow  tree  ;  in  that  tree  lies  your  watch. 

Enter  LoNGSTAFF,  071  Officer,  two  WiTif esses,  and 

Thinkwell. 

Betty,  Bless  me  !  half  the  town  will  be  here  :  it  is 

time  for  me  to  2^.  [Exit. 

*  Blust. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     183 

Blust.  Mr.  Longstaff,  be  so  good  as  not  to  interrupt 
the  Conjurer.  He  has  just  told  me  where  my  watch  is, 
and  will  detect  the  thief  with  a  few  figures  more. 

Longstaff,  My  duty  obliges  me  to  interrupt  him. 
We  have  your  watch,  and  are  come  to  secure  ihe  thief. 
[To  the  Conjurer,]  You  have  run  at  large,  and  de- 
frauded the  honest  and  ignorant  long  enough.  By 
virtue  of  this  warrant,  you  are  the  state's  prisoner, 

Conj.  What  trick  shall  I  try  now  !  I  am  detected  at 
last.  [Aside. 

Cred,  You  must  be  misinformed,  Mr.  Longstaff. 
This  man  is  so  far  from  being  a  thief,  that  he  is  a 
greater  torment  to  them  than  their  own  consciences. 

Long,  Hear  the  evidence  of  these  gentlemen,  and 
you  may  alter  your  mind. 

1st,  Witness,  I  suppose  this  watch  to  be  yours,  Mr. 
Bluster. 

Blust,  It  is  the  very  same ;  the  chain  only  is  changed. 

1st,  Wit,  I  happened  to  overhear  him  talking  with 
one  of  his  gang  last  evening.  This  watch,  with  a  num- 
ber of  other  articles,  was  t'o  be  hidden  in  a  hollow  tree. 
This  impostor,  to  maintain  the  credit  of  a  conjurer,  was 
to  inform  the  owners,  on  inquiry,  where  they  were, 
upon  their  paying  him  for  the  imposition.  I  have  been 
so  fortunate  as  to  secure  one  of  the  partners  in  this 
trade.  And  as  I  heard  this  gentleman,  for  whom  you 
have  so  much  regard,  had  taken  up  lodgings  at  your 
house,  1  did  not  choose  to  interrupt  you  till  there  was 
full  proof  of  his  guilt.  The  stolen  goods,  which  he 
described,  at^d  we  have  found,  are  suificient  evidence 
against  him. 

Cred,  Villain  !  a  halter  is  too  good  for  your  neck. 
May  I  be  taught  common  sense  by  a  monkey,  if  ever 
tam  duped  again  in  such  a  manner. 

2J.  Wit,  My  evidence  tends  rather  to  impeach  the 
character  of  my  townsmen  than  this  worthless  fellow's. 
All  I  can  say,  is,  that  several  months  ago,  he  travelled 
this  road  in  character  of  a  tinker  ;  and  now  all  our 
young  girls,  old  maids,  and  ignorant  fellows,  are  run- 
ning 


134  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

ning  after  this  wise  Conjurer  to  buy  the  history  of  their 
lives,  which,  a  little  while  since,  they  were  Weak- 
enough  to  give  him  for  nothing. 

Thmk,  \  hope  the  impostor  will  be  brought  to  jus- 
tice, and  we  to  our  senses  ;  and  that  after  paying  this 
infatuated  devotion  to  vice  and  ignorance,  virtue  and 
true  knowledge  may  have  our  more  serious  veneration. 

Long,  Gentlemen, assistme  to  conduct  him  to  prison. 

[Exeurd  omnes. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech  in  the  British 
Parliament,  Jan.   20,  1775. 

f\/^HEN  your  lordships  look  at  the  papers  trans^ 
^  ^  mitted  to  us  fi'om  America ;  when  you  con- 
sider their  decency,  firmness,  and  wisdom,  you  cannot 
but  respect  their  cause,  and  wish  to  make  it  your  own. 
For  myself,  I  must  declare  and  avow,  that  in  all  my 
reading  and  observation,  (and  it  has  been  my  favourite 
study  :  I  have  read  Thucidydes,  and  have  studied  and 
admired  the  master-states  of  the  v/orld  :)  I  say  I  must 
declare,  that,  for  solidity  of  reasoning,  force  of  sagacity, 
and  wisdom  of  conclusion,  under  such  a  complication 
of  difficult  circumstances,  no  nation,  or  body  of  mea 
can  stand  in  preference  to  the  General  Congress  at 
Philadelphia.  I  trust  it  is  obvious  to  your  lordships, 
that  all  attempts  to  impose  servitude  upon  such  men,  to 
establish  despotism  over  such  a  mighty  continental  na- 
tion, must  be  vain,  must  be  fatal. 

We  shall  be  forced,  ultimately,  to  retract;  let  us 
retract  while  we  can,  not  when  we  must,  I  say  we 
must  necessarily  undo  these  violent  oppressive  acti 
They  MUST  be  repealed.  You  WILL  repeal  them 
I  pledge  myself  for  it,  that  you  will  in  the  end  repeal 
them.  I  stake  my  reputation  on  it.  I  will  consent  to 
be  taken  for  an  ideot,  if  they  are  not  finally  repealed. 

Avoid,  then,  this  humiliating,  disgraceful  necessity. 
With  a  dignity  becoming  your  exalted  situation,  make 


.1 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     185 

the  first  advances  to  concord,  to  peace  and  happiness  : 
for  it  is  your  true  dignity,  to  act  with  prudence  and 
justice.  Thatyow  should  first  concede,  is  obvious  from 
sound  and  rational  policy.  Concession  comes  with  bet- 
ter grace,  and  more  salutary  eflects  from  superior  pow- 
er ;  it  reconciles  superiority  of  power  wdth  the  feelings 
of  men  ;  and  establishes  solid  confidence  on  the  founda- 
tions of  atfection  and  gratitude. 

Every  motive,  therefore,  of  justice  and  of  policy,  of 
dignity  and  of  prudence,  urges  you  to  allay  the  fer- 
ment in  America,  by  a  removal  of  your  troops  from 
BovSton  ;  by  a  repeal  of  your  acts  of  Parliament;  and 
by  demonstration  of  amicable  dispositions  towards  your 
colonics.  On  the  other  hand,  every  danger  and  every 
hazard  impend,  to  deter  you  from  perseverance  in  your 
present  ruinous  measures.  Foreign  war  hanging  over 
your  heads  by  a  slight  and  brittle  thread  :  France  and 
Spain  watching  your  conduct,  and  waiting  for  the  ma- 
turity of  your  errors  ;  with  a  vigilant  eye  to  America, 
and  the  temper  of  your  colonies,  more  than  to  their 
own  concerns,  be  they  what  they  may. 

To  conclude,  my  lords  ;  if  the  ministers  thus  perse- 
vere in  misadvising  and  misleading  the  king,  I  will  not 
say,  that  they  can  alienate  the  affections  of  his  subjects 
from  his  crown  ;  but  I  will  affirm,  that  they  will  make 
the  crown  not  worth  his  wearing  :  I  will  not  say  that 
the  king  is  betrayed ;  but  I  will  pronounce,  that  the. 
kingdom  is  undone. 


Speech  of  Galgachus  to  the  Caledonian  Army, 


Countrymen,  and  Fellow-Soldiers, 

WHEN  I  consider  the  cause,  for  which  we   have 
drawn  our  swords,  and  the  necessity  of  striking 
an  eflfectual  blow,  before  we  sheathe  them  again,  I  feel 
joyful  hopes  arising  in  my  mind,  that  this  day  an  open- 
ing will  be  made  for  the  restoration  of  British  liberty, 
Q  2  and 


186  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

and  for  shaking  off  the  infamous  yoke  of  Roman  slavery. 
Caledonia  is  yet  free.  The  all-grasping  power  of  Rome 
has  not  yet  been  able  to  seize  our  liberty.  But  it  is  to 
be  preserved  only  by  valour. 

You  are  not  to  expect  to  escape  the  ravage  of  the 
general  plunderers  of  mankind,  by  any  sentiment  of 
justice  in  them.  When  xhe  countries  which  are  more 
accessible  have  been  subdued,  they  will  then  force  their 
way  into  those  which  are  harder  to  be  overcome. 
And  if  they  should  conquer  the  dry  land,  over  the 
whole  world,  they  will  then  think  of  carrying  their 
arms  beyond  the  ocean,  to  see  whether  there  be  not 
certain  unknown  regions,  which  they  may  attack,  and 
reduce  under  subjection  to  the  Roman  empire,  ' 

For  we  see  that  if  a  country  is  thought  to  be  powei# 
ful  in  arms,  the  Romans  attack  it  because  the  conquest 
will  be  glorious ;  if  inconsiderable  in  the  military  art, 
because  the  victory  will  be  easy  ;  if  rich,  they  are 
drawn  thither  by  the  hope  of  plunder  ;  if  poor,  by  the 
desire  of  fame. 

The  east,  and  the  west,  the  south,  and  the  north,  the 
face  of  the  whole  earth  is  the  scene  of  their  military 
achievements.  The  world  is  too  little  for  their  ambi- 
tion, and  their  avarice.  Their  supreme  joy  seems  to 
be  ravaging,  fighting,  and  shedding  of  blood  ;  and  when 
they  have  unpeopled  a  region,  so  that  there  are  none 
left  alive  to  bear  arms,  they  say  they  have  given  peace 
to  that  country. 

Our  distance  from  the  seat  of  government,  and  our 
natural  defence  by  the  surrounding  ocean,  render  us 
obnoxious  to  their  suspicions :  for  they  know  tliat 
Britons  are  born  with  an  instinctive  love  of  liberty : 
and  they  conclude  that  we  must  naturally  be  led  to 
think  of  taking  the  advantage  of  our  detached  situation! 
to  disengage  ourselves,  one  time  or  another,  from  theK 
oppi;ession. 

Thu^,  my  countrymen  and  fellow-soldiers,  suspect/ed 
aacl  tiat^d  as  >ye  ever  rpust  b^  by  the  Roin^ns,  tlxere  i« 
n9  Pffip^ef  j^  yi^i-  8PJ?y¥Jg  eyep  a  tol^yable  ?tate  q^ 
._     "        '     ■"       '    '  '  bondag;! 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     187 

bondage  under  them.  Let  us,  then,  in  the  name  of 
all  that  is  sacred,  and  in  defence  of  all  that  is  dear  to 
us,  resolve  to  exert  ourselves,  if  not  for  glory,  at  least 
for  safety  ;  if  not  in  vindication  of  British  honor,  at 
least  in  defence  of  our  lives. 

But,  after  all,  who  are  these  mighty  Romans  ?  Are 
they  gods  ;  or  mortal  men,  like  ourselves  ?  Do  we 
not  see  that  they  fall  into  the  same  errors  and  weak- 
nesses, as  others  ?  Does  not  peace  efteminate  them  ? 
Does  not  abundance  debauch  them  ?  Does  not  wan- 
tonness enervate  them  ?  Do  they  not  even  go  to  ex- 
cess in  the  most  unmanly  vices  ?  And  can  you  imagine 
that  they  who  are  remarkable  for  their  vices  arc  like- 
wise remarkable  for  their  valour  ?  What  then  do  we 
dread  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  the  truth,  my  fellow-soldiers  ? 
It  is  by  means  of  our  intestine  divisions,  that  the  Ro- 
jnans  have  gained  such  great  advantage  over  us.  They 
turn  the  misconduct  of  their  enemies  to  their  own 
praise.  They  boast  of  what  they  have  done,  and  say 
nothing  of  what  we  might  have  done,  had  we  been  so 
wise,  as  to  unite  against  them. 

What  is  this  formidable  Roman  army?  Is  it  not 
composed  of  a  mixture  of  people  from  ditferent  coun- 
tries j  some  more,  some  less  capable  of  bearing  fatigue 
and  hardship?  They  keep  together  while  they  are 
successful.  Attack  them  v/ith  vigour :  distress  them  : 
you  will  see  them  more  disunited  than  we  are  now. 
Can  any  one  imagine,  that  Gauls,  Gei-mans,  and  with 
shame  I  must  add,  Britons,  who  basely  lend  their  limbs 
and  lives,  to  build  up  a  foreign  tyranny  ;  can  one  im- 
agine that  these  will  be  longer  enemies  than  slaves  ? 
or  that  such  an  army  is  held  together  by  sentiments  of 
fidelity  or  affection  ?  No :  the  only  bond  of  union 
among  them  is  fear.  And  whenever  terror  ceases  to 
work  upon  the  minds  of  that  mixed  multitude,  they 
who  now  fear,  will  then  hate  their  tyrannical  masters. 
On  our  side  there  is  every  possible  incitement  to  valour. 
The  Roman  courage  is  not,  as  ours,  inflamed  by  the 
thoughts  of  wives  and  children  in  danger  of  falling  in- 
to 


I 


188  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOK. 

to  the  hands  of  the   enemy.     The  Romans  have  not  * 
parents,  as  we  have,  to  reproach  them  if  they  should 
desert  their  infirm  old  age.     They  have  no  country 
here    to  fight  for.     They  are  a  motley  collection  of 
foreigners,   in   a  land  wholly  unknown  to  them'  ;  cut 
off  from  their  native  country,  hemmed  in  by  the  sur- 
rounding ocean;  and  given,  I  hope,  a  prey  into  our 
hands,  without  any  possibility  of  escape.     Let  not  the 
sound  of  the  Roman  name  atiVight  your  cans,  nor  let 
the  glare  of  gold  or  silver,  upon  their  armour,  dazzle 
your  eyes.     It  is  not  by  gold  or  silver,  that  men  are 
cither  w^ounded  or  defended ;    though  they  are  ren-  . 
dered  a  richer  prey  to  the  conquerors.     Let  us  boldly  '| 
attack  this  disunited  rabble.  We  shall  find  among  them-  1 
selves  a  reinforcement  to  our  army. 

And  what  will  there  be  then  to  fear  ?  A  few  half 
garrisoned  forts  :  a  few  municipal  towns,  inhabited  by 
worn-out  old  men  ;  discord  universally  prevailing,  oc- 
casioned by  tyranny  in  those  who  command,  and  ob- 
stinacy in  those  Avho  should  obey.  On  our  side,  anv 
army  united  in  the  cause  of  their  country,  their  wives, 
their  children,  their  aged  parents,  their  lives.  At  the 
head  of  this  army,  I  hope  I  do  not  oiiend  against  modesty 
rn  saying,  there  is  a  General  ready  to  exert  all  his  abil- 
ities, such  as  they  are,  and  to  hazard  his  life  in  leading 
30U  to  victor}^  and  to  freedom. 

I  conclude,  my  countrymen  and  fellow-soldiers, 
with  putting  you  in  mind,  that  on  your  behaviour  this 
day  depends  your  future  enjoyment  of  peace  and  lib- 
erty, or  your  subjection  to  a  tyrannical  enemy,  with 
all  its  grievous  consecjuenccs.  When,  therefore,  you 
come  to  engage,  think  of  your  ancestors,  and  think  of 
your  posterity. 

Modern 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  189 


Modern  Educatiox. 

Dialogue  between*  a  Preceptor  of  an  Academy, 

AND  Parent  of  an  offered  Pupil. 


Preceptor,  T  AM  heartily  sick  of  this  modern  mode 
[Solus,]  X  of  education.  Nothing  but  trat^h  will 
suit  the  taste  of  people  at  this  day.  I  am  perplexed  be- 
yond all  endurance  with  these  frequent  solicitations  of 
parents,  to  give  their  children  graceful  airs,  polite  ac- 
complishments, and  a  smattering  of  what  they  call  the 
fine  arts  ;  while  nothing  is  said  about  teaching  them  the 
substantial  branches  of  literature^  If  they  can  but  dance 
a  little,  fiddle  a  little,  flute  a  litde,  and  make  a  hand- 
some bow  and  courtesy,  that  is  sufficient  to  make  themf 
famous,  in  this  enlightened  age.  Three-fourths  of  the 
teachers  of  those  arts,  which  once  were  esteemed  most 
valuable,  will  soon  be  out  of  employment,  at  tliis  rate. 
For  my  part,  I  am  convinced,  that,  if  I  had  been  a 
dancing  master,  music  master,  stage  player,  or  mounte- 
bank, 1  should  have  been  much  more  respected,  and 
much  better  supported,  than  I  am  at  present. 
Enter  Parent. 

Parent.  Your  humble  servant,  Sir;  are  you  the 
principal  of  this  Academy  ? 

Precep,     I  am,  at  your  service,  Sir. 

Par.  I  have  heard  much  of  the  fame  of  your  insti- 
tution, and  am  desirous  of  putting  a  son,  of  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  under  your  tuition.  I  suppose 
you  have  masters  who  teach  the  various  branches  of 
the  polite  arts. 

Precep.  We  are  not  inattentive  to  those  arts.  Sir; 
but  the  fame  of  our  Academy  does  not  rest  upon  them. 
Useful  learning  is  our  grand  object.  What  studies  do 
you  wish  to  put  your  son  upon  ? 

Par,  I  wish  him  to  be  perfected  in  music,  dancing, 
drawing,  Sic,  and  as  he  possesses  a  promising  genius  for 
poetry,  I  would  by  all  means  have  that  cultivated. 

Precep. 


190  .        THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Precep,  These  are  not  all  the  branches,  I  trust,  ia 
which  he  is  to  be  instructed.  You  mention  nothing  of 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  language,  &c.  Are  these 
to  be  wholly  neglected  ? 

Par.  Why,  as  to  these  every-day  branches,  I  can- 
not say  I  feel  very  anxious  about  them.  The  boy  reads 
well  now;  writes  a  decent  hand;  is  acquainted  with 
the  ground  rules  of  arithmetic,  and  pronounces  the 
English  language  genteelly.  He  has  been  a  long  time 
under  the  care  of  Mr.  Ilonestus,  our  town  schoolmas- 
ter, who  has  taught  him  all  these  things  sutTiciently. 
So  that  I  think  any  more  time  devoted  to  them  would 
be  wasted. 

Precep,  If  he  is  such  an  adept  that  there  is  no  room 
for  his  progressing  in  those  arts ;  yet  I  think,  at  least, 
there  is  need  of  practice,  lest,  at  his  age,  he  should 
forget  what  he  has  learned. 

Par.  That  I  shall  leave  to  your  discretion.  But 
there  is  one  branch,  of  great  importance,  which  I  have 
not  yet  mentioned,  and  to  which  I  would  have  particu- 
lar attention  paid  ;  I  mean  the  art  of  speaking.  You 
will  find  him  not  deficient  in  that  respect ;  though  per- 
haps it  requires  as  much  practice  to  make  one  perfect  in 
that,  as  in  any  art  whatever.  He  has  already  learned 
by  heart  a  great  number  of  pieces,  and  has  acted  a  part 
in  several  comedies  and  tragedies  with  much  applause. 
It  has  been  the  custom  of  our  master  to  have  an  exhi- 
bition at  least  once  a  quarter ;  and  my  son  has  always 
been  considered  as  one  of  his  best  performers.  He 
lately  took  the  part  of  Jemmy  Jumps,  in  the  farce  called 
The  Farmer,  and  acted  it  to  universal  acceptation. 

Precep.  I  must  confess,  Sir,  that  your  account  of 
your  son  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  very  flattering. 

Par.  Why  so,  pray  ?  have  you  not  an  ear  for  elo- 
quence ? 

Precep.     Indeed  I  have,    Sir.     No  man    is   more 
charmed  than  I  am  with  its  enrapturing  sounds.     No 
music  rests  sweeter  on  my  ear  than  the  melodious  notes, 
proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  a  judicious,  \.  ell-instruct- 
ed. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  191 

ed,  and  powerful  orator.  But  I  must  tell  you  plainly, 
that  I  am  by  no  means  pleased  to  see  parents  take  so 
much  pains  to  transform  their  children  into  monkeys 
instead  of  men.  What  signs  of  oratory  do  you  imagine 
you  can  discern  in  a  boy,  rigged  out  in  a  fantastical 
dress,  skipping  about  the  stage  like  a  baboon,  in  the 
•character  of  Jemmy  Jumps,  Betty  Jumps,  or  any  other 
jumper  ? 

Par,     Do  you  not  approve  of  exhibitions  then  ? 

Precep,  Not  much,  I  confess,  in  the  way  they  are 
^generally  conducted.  A  master,  who  has  four  in  a, 
year,  must  necessarily  rob  his  pupils  of  one  quarter  of 
that  time,  which,  in  my  opinion,  might  be  much  belter 
employed  in  attending  to  what  would  be  useful  for 
■them  in  life. 

Par,  What  can  be  more  useful  for  a  child,  under 
such  a  government  as  ours,  than  to  be  able  to  speak 
before  an  audience  with  a  graceful  ease,  and  a  manful 
dignity  ?  My  son,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be  a  member 
of  Congress  before  he  dies. 

Precep,  For  that  very  reason  I  would  educate  hini 
differently.  I  would  lay  the  foundation  of  his  future 
fame  on  the  firm  basis  of  the  solid  sciences  ;  that  he 
might  be  able  in  time  to  do  something  more  than  a  mere 
parrot^  or  an  ape,  who  arc  capable  only  of  speaking 
the  words,  and  mimicking  the  actions  of  others.  He 
should  first  be  taught  to  read.  He  should  likewise  be 
taught  to  compose  for  himself;  and  I  v.ould  not  be 
Wanting  in  my  endeavours  to  make  him  a  speaker. 

Par,  Surely,  Mr.  Preceptor,  you  must  be  very 
wrong  in  your  notions;  1  have  ever  pursued  a  difier- 
'ent  plan  with  my  children;  and  there  are  none  in  the 
country,  though  I  say  it  myself,  who  are  more  univer- 
sally caressed.  I  have  a  daughter  that  ha^  seen  but 
fourteen  years,  who  is  capable  of  gracing  the  politest 
circles;  It  is  allowed  that  she  can  enter,  and  leave  a 
room,  with  as  much  ease  and  dignity  as  any  lady  of 
quality  whatever.  .  And  this  is  evidently  owing  alto- 
gether to  her  polite  education.     I  boarded  her  a  year 

in 


192  THE  COLUMBiAN  ORATOR. 

in  the  capital,  where  she  enjoyed  every  possible  advan- 
tage. She  attended  the  most  accomplished  masters  in 
the  ornamental  branches  of  science ;  visited  the  gen- 
teelest  families,  and  frequented  all  the  scenes  of  amuse- 
ment. It  is  true,  her  letters  are  not  always  written 
quite  so  accurately  as  could  be  wished  ;  yet  she  dances 
well,  plays  well  on  the  piano-forte,  and  sings  like  a 
nightingale. 

Precep,  Does  she  know  the  art  of  makmg  a  good 
pudding  ?  Can  she  darn  a  stocking  well  ?  or  is  she  ca- 
pable of  patching  the  elbows  of  her  husband's  coat, 
should  she  ever  be  so  lucky  as  to  get  one  ?  If  she  is  to 
remain  ignorant  of  all  such  domestic  employments,  as 
much  as  I  value  her  other  accomplishments,  and  as 
much  as  I  might  be  in  want  of  a  wife,  I  would  not 
marry  her  with  twice  her  weight  in  gold. 

Tar,  Her  accomplishments  will  command  her  a  hus- 
band as  soon  as  she  wishes.  But  so  long  as  a  single 
cent  of  my  property  remains,  her  delicate  hands  shall 
never  be  so  unworthily  employed. 

Precep.  But  suppose  a  reverse  of  fortune  should 
overtake  you,  what  is  to  become  of  the  child  ;  as  you 
say  she  understands  nothing  of  domestic  affairs  ?  Will 
it  be  more  honorable,  do  you  imagine,  for  her  to  be 
maintained  by  the  charity  of  the  people,  than  by  her 
own  industry  ? 

Par,  There  are  many  ways  for  her  to  be  supported. 
I  would  not  have  you  think  she  is  wholly  ignorant  of 
the  use  of  the  needle,  though  she  never  employed  it  in 
-so  disgraceful  a  manner  as  that  of  darning  stockings ! 
or  botching  tattered  garments !  But  we  will  wave  that 
subject,  and  attend  to  the  other.  Will  you  receive  the 
boy  for  the  purposes  before  mentioned  ? 

Precep,  Why,  indeed,  Sir,  1  cannot.  Though  I 
am  far  from  condemning  altogether  your  favourite 
branches,  yet  I  consider  them  all  as  subordinate,  and 
some  of  them,  at  least,  totally  useless.  We  devote  but 
a  small  portion  of  our  time  to  the  attainment  of  such 
superficial  accomplishments.  I  would  therefore  recom- 
mend 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  193 

mend  it  to  you,  to  commit  him  to  the  care  of  those 
persons,  who  have  been  so  successful  in  the  instruction 
of  his  sister. 

.  Par,  I  confess  I  am  so  far  convinced  of  the  propri- 
ety of  your  method,  that,  if  you  will  admit  him  into 
your  Academy,  I  will  renounce  all  right  of  dictating  to 
you  his  lessons  of  instruction,  except  in  one  single  in- 
stance ;  and  in  that  I  am  persuaded  we  shall  not  disa- 
gree ;  I  mean  the  art  of  speaking. 

Preap,  I  shall  agree  to  that  only  under  certain 
limitations.  That  is  an  art  which  undoubtedly  demands 
our  solicitous  attention ;  but  it  ought  never  to  be  pur- 
sued to  the  injury  of  other  studies.  I  am  sensible  that 
it  is  no  less  useful  to  a  pupil  than  entertaining  to  an 
audience,  to  exerci:e  him  occasionally  on  the  stage  in 
declaiming  judicious  and  well-writtes  compositions,  and 
pronouncing  such  selected  dialogues,  as  will  tend  to 
give  gracefulness  to  his  attitude,  and  familiarity  to  his 
tones  and  gestures.  But,  admitting  that  time  could  be 
spared  from  more  important  pursuits,  1  see  but  little 
good  resulting  from  the  exhibition  of  whole  comedies 
and  tragedies  in  our  academies  and  schools ;  while 
much  evil  is  to  be  feared,  both  from  the  inimorality  of 
the  plays,  and  the  dissipation  it  introduces  into  society. 
Besides,  all  boys  are  not  calculated  for  orators  ;  and 
though  Demosthenes  surmounted  almost  insuperable 
difficulties  in  the  acquirement  of  his  art,  it  is  folly  to 
suppose  that  his  example  is  capable  of  universal  imita- 
tion. I  cannot  believe  it  a  very  pleasing  entertainment 
to  a  discerning  audience,  to  see  a  boy  without  talents, 
mounted  upon  the  rostrum,  spouting  forth  sentences 
which  he  does  not  understand,  and  which,  perhaps, 
•are  chosen  with  as  little  judgment  as  they  are  deliv- 
ered with  propriety.  But  what  can  be  more  disgusting 
than  to  see  innocent,  and  timid  females,  whose  excel- 
lence, in  part,  consists  in  their  modesty,  and  silence  be- 
fore superiours,  encouraged  to  reverse  the  order  of  na- 
ture, by  playing  the  orator  on  a  public  stage!  And 
what  often  enhances  our  disgust,  and  sickens  all  our 
R  feelings. 


194  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


feelings,  is,  that  their  lips  are  taught  to  pronounce 
sentiments,  extracted  from  the  very  dregs  of  the  Euro- 
pean drama. 

Par,     Then  it  seems  you  do  not  ajlprove  of  females 
speaking  at  all  ? 

Precep,  Not  on  a  public  stage,  unless  I  wished  to 
see  them  divested  of  half  their  charius.  Such  mascu- 
line employments  as  ill  become  them,  as  the  labours  of 
the  field,  or  the  habits  of  the  stronger  sex.  I  would 
have  them  taught  to  read  and  pronounce  well  at  school ; 
but  nature  never  designed  them  for  public  orators ; 
much  less,  that  they  should  be  degraded  to  th€  vile 
purpose  of  entertaining  the  votaries  of  theatrical  amuse- 
ments. 

Par.  Why,  you  differ  widely  from  many,  whose 
pride  is  to  be  considered  as  the  standards  of  modern 
taste.  It  does  not  now  offend  against  the  rules  of  del- 
icacy, for  the  different  sexes  to  make  exchange  of  gar- 
ments now  and  then,  provided  the  grand  object  of 
amusement  be  promoted  by  it.  I  was  in  Boston  last 
week,  and  there  I  saw  a  beautiful  young  lady,  rigged 
out  from  top  to  toe  in  men's  apparel,  astride  a  gay 
horse,  parading  through  the  streets,  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  fhe  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  that  polite  metrop- 
olis. And  none  appeared  to  be  offended,  except  a  few 
who  had  not  attained  a  relish  for  refined  pleasures. 

Precep.  Yes,  and  I  am  told,  that,  at  their  theatres, 
it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  woman  to  make  her  appear- 
ance, in  that  apparel,  with  a  sword  by  her  side,  strut- 
ting across  the  stage,  and  swearing,  oaths  big  enough 
to  choke  an  Algerine  pirate  ;  and  yet  il  is  so  agreeable 
to  the  modern  )o7i,  that  even  ladies  of  distinguished  re- 
finement are  ashamed  to  blush  at  her ! 

Par,  You  have  made  me  so  far  a  convert  to  your 
sentiments  on  this  subject,  and  given  me  such  proofs  of 
your  SLiperiour  judgment  in  the  education  of  youth,  that 
I  am  determined  to^commit  my  son,  without  any  reserve, 
to  your  care  and  instruction.  Till  you  hear  from  me 
again,  I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant. 


i 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  I9o 

The  ExiSTE.vcE  of  God,  demonstrated  from  the 
Works  or  Creation  ;  eeing  a  Sermon  preached 
AT  Providence,  by  Jonathan  Maxcy,  a.  m. 
President  of  Rhode-Island  College,  1795; 
from  Romans  i.  20. 

[N.  B.  lilien  found  expedient ,  the  following  Sermon  maj/ 
conienientlybe  divided  into  three  orfour parts  ^suitable for 
declamations*  The  author  of  this  work  did  not  intend  at 
first  to  insert  the  whole  ^  but,  in  attempting  to  make  a  selec- 
tion, he  could  find  no  part  which  he  zoas  willing  to  leave.] 

IV'OTHING  will  more  effecluaDy  guard  us  against 
■^^  vice,  than  a  firm  belief  m  the  existence  of  God. 
For  surely  if  we  realize  that  there  Ls  such  a  Being,  we 
shall  naturally  infer  from  his  perfections,  from  the  na- 
ture of  his  moral  government,  and  from  our  situation 
as  rational  creatures,  that  we  are  amenable  at  his  awful 
tribunal.  Superior  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness, 
always  lay  us  under  restraint,  and  command  our  vene- 
ration. These,  even  in  a  mortal,  overaw^e  us.  They 
restrain  not  only  the  actions,  butjhe  words  and  thoughts 
of  the  most  vicious  and  abandonee.  Our  happiness  de- 
pends on  our  virtue.  Our  virtue  depends  on  the  con- 
formity of  our  hearts  and  conduct  to  the  laws  prescri- 
bed us  by  our  beneficent  Creator. 

Of  what  vast  importance  then  is  it  to  our  present  as 
well  as  future  felicity,  to  possess  in  our  hearts  a  feeling 
sense,  and  in  our  understanding  a  clear  conviction,  of 
the  existence  of  that  Being  whose  power  and  goodness 
are  unbounded,  whose  presence  fills  immensity,  and 
whose  wisdom,  like  a  torrent  of  lightning,  emanates 
^  through  all  the  dark  recesses  of  eternal  duration  !  How 
/  great  must  be  the  effect  of  a  sense  of  the  presence  of 
the  great  Creator  and  Governor  of  all  things,  to  whom 
belong  the  attributes,  eternity,  independency,  perfect 
holiness,  inflexiblejustice,  and  inviolable  veracity;  com- 
plete happiness  and  glorious  majesty  ;  suprcme  right 
and  luibounded  dominion  ? 

A  sense 


196     THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

A  sense  of  accountability  to  God  will  retard  the 
eager  pursuit  of  vice  ;  it  will  humble  the  heart  of  the 
proud,  it  will  bridle  the  tongue  of  the  profane,  and 
snatch  the  knife  from  the  hand  of  the  assassin.  A  belief 
of  the  existence  of  God  is  the  true  original  source  of  all 
virtue,  and  the  only  foundation  of  all  religion,  natural 
or  revealed.  Set  aside  this  great  luminous  truth,  erase 
the  conviction  of  it  from  the  heart,  you  then  place  vir- 
tue and  vice  on  the  same  level ;  j^ou  drive  afflicted  in-- 
uocence  into  despair ;  you  add  nevr  effrontery  to  the 
marred  visage  of  guilt ;  you  plant  thorns  in  the  path, 
and  shed  an  impenetrable  gloom  over  the  prospects  of 
the  righteous. 

Sin  has  alienated  the  affections,  and  diverted  the  at- 
tention of  men  from  the  great  Jehovah.  "Darkness 
lias  covered  the  earth,  and  gross  darkness  the  people." 
iUen  have  worshipped  the  works  of  their  own  hands, 
and  neglected  the  true  God,  though  his  existence  and 
perfections  were  stamped  in  glaring  characters  on  all 
creation.  From  the  regularity,  order,  beauty,  and  con- 
servation of  this  great  system  of  things,  of  which  man 
makes  a  part ;  from  the  uniform  tendency  of  all  its  di- 
visions to  their  proper  ends,  the  existence  of  God  shines 
as  clearly  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens.  "  From  the 
things  that  are  made,"  says  the  text,  "  are  seen  his 
eternal  power  and  Godhead." 

1.  Man  himself  is  a  proof  of  God's  existence.     Let 
us  place  him  before  us  in  his  full  stature.     We  are  at 
once  impressed  with  the  beautiful  organization  of  his 
body,  with  the  orderly  and  harmonious  arrangement  of 
his  members.  Such  is  the  disposition  of  these,  that  their 
motion  is  the  most  easy,  graceful,  and  useful,  that  can 
be  conceived.     We  are  astonished  to  see  the  same  sim- 
ple matter  diversified  into  so  many  different  substances, 
of  different  qualities,  size,  and  figure.     If  we  pursue 
our  researches  through  the  internal  economy,  we  shall- 
fmd,that  all  the  different  opposite  parts  correspond  tofl 
each  other  with  the  utmost  exactness  and  order;  that  . 
they  all  answer  the  oiost  beneficent  purposes. 

This 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     197 

This  wonderful  machine,  the  human  body,  is  ani- 
mated, cherished,  and  preserved,  by  a  spirit  within, 
which  pervades  every  particle,  feels  in  every  organ, 
warns  us  of  injury,  and  administers  to  our  pleasures. 
Erect  in  stature,  man  differs  from  all  other  animals. 
Though  his  foot  is  confined  to  the  earth,  yet  his  eye 
measures  the  whole  circuit  of  heaven,  and  in  an  instam 
takes  in  thousands  of  worlds.  His  countenance  is  turn- 
ed upward,  to  teach  us  that  he  is  not,  like  other  animals, 
limited  to  the  earth,  but  looks  forward  to  brighter 
scenes  of  existence  in'^he  skies. 

Whence  came  this  erect,  orderly,  beautiful  constitu- 
tion of  the  human  body  ?  Did  it  spring  up  from  the 
earth,  self-formed  ?  Surely  not.  Earth  itself  is  in- 
active matter.  That  which  has  no  motion  can  never 
produce  any.  Man  surely  could  not,  as  has  been 
vainly  and  idly  supposed,  have  been  formed  by  the  for- 
tuitous concurrence  of  atoms.  We  behoW  the  most  ex- 
act order  in  the  constitution  of  the  human  body.  Or- 
der always  involves  design.  Design  always  involves 
intelligence.  That  intelligence,  which  directed  the 
orderly  formation  of  the  human  body,  must  have  resi- 
ded in  a  being  whese  power  was  adequate  to  the  pro- 
duction of  such  an  effect. 

Creation  surely  is  the  prerogative  of  a  self-existent, 
uncaused  Being.  Finite  creatures  may  arrange  and 
dispose,  but  they  cannot  create  ;  they  cannot  give  life. 
It  is  a  universal  law  through  all  nature,  that  like  pro- 
duces like.  The  same  laws  most  probably  obtain  through 
the  whole  system  in  which  we  are  connected.  We 
have  therefore  no  reason  to  suppose  that  angels  created 
man.  Neither  can  we,  without  the  greatest  absurdity, 
admit  that  he  was  formed  by  himself,  or  by  mere  ac- 
cident. If  in  the  latter  way,  why  do  we  never  see 
men  formed  so  in  the  present  day  ?  Why  do  we  never 
see  the  clods  of  earth  brightening  into  human  flesh, 
and  the  dust  under  our  feet  crawling  into  animated 
forms,  and  starting  up  into  life  and  intelligence  ? 

R2  K 


198  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

If  wc  even  admit  that  either  of  the  foremcntioned 
causes  might  have  produced  man,  yet  neither  of  theij^ 
could  have  preserved  him  in  existence  one  momenfl 
There  must  therefore  be  a  God  uncaused,  independent, 
and  complete.  The  nobler  part  of  man  clearly  evinces 
this  great  truth.  When  we  consider  the  boundless  de- 
sires and  the  inconceivable  activity  of  the  soul  of  man, 
we  can  refer  his  origin  to  nothing  but  God.  How  as- 
tonishing are  the  reasoning  faculties  of  man  !  How  sur- 
prising the  power  of  comparing,  arranging,  and  coi^ 
necting  his  ideas  !  How  wonderful  is  the  power  of  iim 
agination !  On  its  wings,  in  a  moment,  we  can  transl 
port  ourselves  to  the  most  distant  part  of  the  universe.^ 
We  can  fly  back,  and  live  the  lives  of  all  antiquity,  or 
surmount  the  limits  of  time,  and  sail  along  the  vast 
range  of  eternity.  Whence  these  astonishing  powers, 
if  not  from  a  God  of  infinite  wisdom,  goodness,  and 
power  ? 

2.  "  The  invisible  things  of  him  from  the  creation 
of  the  world,"  says  the  text,  "  are  clearly  seen.'* 
Let  us  for  a  moment  behold  our  earth.  With  what  a 
delightful  scene  are  we  hei-e  presented !  the  diversifi- 
cation of  its  surface  into  land  and  water,  islands  and 
lakes,  springs  and  rivers,  hills  and  vallics,  mountains 
and  plains,  renders  it  to  man  doubly  enchanting.  ^Ve 
are  entcrtajficjEljf^ath  an  agreeable  variety,  without  be- 
ing disguste(^ 'by  a  tedious  uniformity.  Every  thing 
appears  admirably  formed  for  our  profit  and  delight. 
There  the  vallies  are  clothed  in  smiling  green,  and  the 
plains  are  bending  with  corn.  Here  is  the  gentle  hill 
to  delight  the  eye,  and  beyond,  slow  rising  from  the 
earth,  swells  the  huge  mountain,  &nd,  with  all  its  load 
of  waterB,  rocks,  and  woods,  heaves  itself  up  into  the 
skies.  Why  this  pleasing,  vast  deformity  of  nature,? 
Undoubtedly  for  the  benefit  of  man.  From  the  mou 
tains  descend  streams  to  fertilize  the  plains  below,  a 
<  over  them  with  wealth  and  beauty. 

The  earth  not  only  produces  every  thing  necessa: 
to  support  our  bodies,  but  to  rem«dy  our  diseases,  a 

grati 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     199 

gratify  our  senses.  Who  covered  the.  earth  with  such 
a  pleasing  variety  of  fruits  and  flowers  ?  Who  gave . 
them  their  delightful  fragrance,  and  painted  them  with  i 
such  exquisite  colours  ?  Who  causes  the  same  water  to 
whiten  in  the  lily,  that  blushes  in  the  rose  ?  Do  not 
these  things  indicate  a  Cause  infinitely  superiour  to  any 
finite  being  ?  Do  they  not  directly  lead  us  to  believe 
the  existence  of  God,  to  admire  his  goodness,  to  revere 
his  power,  to  adore  his  wisdom,  in  so  happily  accom- 
modating our  external  circumstances  to  our  situation 
and  internal  constitution  ? 

3.  But  how  are  we  astonished  to  behold  the  vast 
ocean,  rolling  its  immense  burden  of  waters !  Who 
gave  it  such  a  configuration  of  particles  as  to  render  it 
moveable  by  the  least  pressure,  and  at  the  same  time  so 
strong  as  to  support  the  heaviest  weights  ?  Who  spread- 
out  this  vast  highway  of  all  the  nations  under 
heaven  ?  Who  gave  it  its  regular  motion  ?  Who 
confined  it  within  its  bounds  ?  A  little  more  mo- 
tion would  disorder  the  whole  world !  A  small  in- 
citement on  the  tide  would  drown  whole  kingdoms. 
Wlio  restrains  the  proud  waves,  when  the  tempest  lifts 
them  to  the  clouds  '/  Who  measured  the  great  watersgi 
and  subjected  them  to  invariable  laws  ?  That  great  Be- 
ing, *'  who  placed  the  sand  lor  the  bound  thereof,  by 
a  perpetual  decree  that  it  cannot  pass ;  and  though 
the  waves  thereof  toss  themselves,  yet  can  they  not 
prevail ;  though  they  roar,  yet  can  they  not  pass  over." 
With  reason  may  we  believe,  that  from  the  things  that 
are  made  are  clearly  seen  eternal  power  and  wisdom. 

4.  Passing  by  the  numerous  productions  and  appen- 
dages of  the  earth,  let  us  rise  from  it,  and  consider  the 
body  of  air  with  wdiich  we  are  suiToundcd.  What  a, 
convincing  proof  do  we  here  find  of  the  existence  of: 
God  !  Such  is  the  subtilty  and  transparency  of  the 
air,  that  it  receives  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  stars,  con- 
veying them  with  inconceivable  velocity  to  objects  on 
the  earth,  rendering  them  visible,  and  decorating  the 

whole 


200  THE  COLUxMBIAN  ORATOR. 

whole  surface  of  the  globe  with  aa  agreeable  inter- 
mixture of  light,  shade,  and  colours.  But  still  this  air 
has  a  sufficient  consistencyand  strength  to  support  clouds, 
and  all  the  winged  inhabitants.  Had  it  been  less  sub- 
tile, it  would  have  intercepted  the  light.  Had  it  beea 
more  rarified,  it  would  not  have  supported  its  inhab-jjj 
itants,  nor  have  aftbrded  sufficient  moisture  for  the  pur-  i 
poses  of  respiration.  What  then  but  infinite  wisdom 
could  have  tempered  the  air  so  nicely,  as  to  give  it  suf- 
ficient strength  to  support  clouds  for  rain,  to  aflbrd 
wind  for  health,  and  at  the  same  time  to  possess  the 
power  of  conveying  sound  and  light  ?  How  wonderful 
is  this  element!  How  clearly  does  it  discover  infinite 
wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  ! 

5.  But  when  we  cast  our  eyes  up  to  the  firmament 
of  heaven,  we  clearly  see  that  it  declares  God's  handy 
work.  Here  the  immense  theatre  of  God's  works  opens 
upon  us,  and  discloses  ten  thousand  magnificent,  splen- 
did objects.  We  dwindle  to  nothing  in  comparison 
with  this  august  scene  of  beauty,  majesty,  and  glory. 
Who  reared  this  vast  arch  over  our  heads?  Who 
adorned  it  with  so  many  shining  objects,  placed  at  such 
immense  distances  from  each  other,  regular  in  their 
motions,  invariably  observing  the  laws  to  which  they 
were  originally  subjected?  Who  placed  the  sun  at 
such  a  convenient  distance  as  not  to  annoy,  but  refresh 
us  ?  Who,  for  so  many  ages,  has  caused  him  to  rise  and 
set  at  fixed  times  ?  Whose  hand  directs,  and  whose 
power  restrains  him  in  his  course,  causing  him  to  pro- 
duce the  agreeable  changes  of  day  and  night,  as  well 
as  the  variety  of  seasons  ? 

The  order,  harmony,  and  regularity  in  the  revolutions 
of  the  heavenly  bodies,  are  such  incontestible  proofs  of 
the  existence  of  God,  that  an  eminent  poet  well  said, 
*'  An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad."  In  the  time  of 
Cicero,  when  the  knowledge  of  astronomy  was  very  im- 
perfect, he  did  not  hesitate  to  declare,  that  in  his  opin- 
ion the  man  who  asserted  the  heavenly  bodies  were  not 
framed  and  moved  by  a  divine  understanding,  was  him- 
self 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  201 

self  void  of  all  understanding.     Well  indeed  is  it  said, 
I  that  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God. 

This  great  Being  is  every  where  present.     He  ex- 
j  ists  all  around  us.    He  is  not,  as  we  are  apt  to  imagine, 
;  at  a  great  distance.     Wherever  we  turn,  his   image 
meets  our  view.     We   see  him  in  the  earth,  in  the 
ocean,  in  the  air,  in  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars.     We 
feel  him  in  ourselves.    He  is  always  working  round  us  ; 
,  he  performs  the  greatest  operations,  produces  the  no- 
I  blest  effects,  discovers  himself  in  a  thousand  different 
I  ways,   and  yet  the  real  GOD  remains  unseen.     All 
parts  of  creation  are  equally  under   his    inspection. 
I  Though  he  warms  the  breast  of  the  highest  angel  ia 
i  heaven,  yet  he  breathes  life  into  the  meanest  insect  on 
earth.     He  lives  through  all  his  works,  supporting  all 
j  by  the  word  of  his  power.     He   shines  in  the  verdure 
I  that  clothes  the  plains,  in  the  lily  that  delights  the  vale, 
land  in  the  forest  that  waves  on  the  mountain.     He 
supports  the  slender  reed  that  trembles  in  the  breeze, 
and  the  sturdy  oak  that  defies  the  tempest.     His  pres- 
ence cheers  the  inanimate  creation. 

Far  in  the  w^ilderncss,  where  human  eye  never  saw, 
where  the  savage  foot  never  trod,  there  he  bids  the 
blooming  forest  smile,  and  the  blushing  rose  opens  its 
leaves  to  the  morning  sun.  There  he  causes  the  feath- 
ered inhabitants  to  whistle  their  wild  notes  to  the  listt^ 
ening  trees  and  echoing  mountains.  There  nature 
lives  in  all  her  wanton  wildness.  There  the  ravished 
eye,  hurrying  from  scene  to  scene,  is  lost  in  one  vast 
blush  of  beauty.  From  the  dark  stream  that  rolls 
through  the  forest,  the  silver-scaled  fish  leap  up,  and 
dumbly  mean  the  praise  of  God.  Though  man  remain 
silent,  yet  God  will  have  praise.  He  regards,  observes; 
upholds,  connects,  and  equals  all. 

Thebelief  of  his  existence  is  not  a  point  of  mere  spec- 
ulation and  amusement.  It  is  of  inconceivable  import- 
ance to  our  present,  as  well  as  future  felicity.  But 
while  we  believe  there  is  a  God,  we  should  be  extreme- 
ly careful  to  ascertain,  with  as  much  accuracy  as  possi- 
ble» 


20^  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

ble,  what  is  his  real  nature.  The  most  prominent  fea- 
tures of  this  are  exhibited  in  that  nicomprehensible  dis- 
play of  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness,  made  m  the 
works  of  creation.  A  virtuous  man  stands  in  a  rela- 
tion to  God  which  is  peculiarly  delightful.  The  divine 
perfections  are  all  engaged  in  his  defence.  He  fees 
powerful  in  God's  power,  wise  in  his  wisdom,  good  in 
his  goodness.  ,  i    •  i 

The  vicious  man,  on  the  contrary,  stands  in  a  rela- 
tion  to  God,  which  is  of  all  things  the  most  dreadful. 
He  is  unwilling  to  know  that  God  has  sufficient  wisdom 
to  search  out  all  his  wickedness,  sufficient  goodness 
to  the  universe  to  determine  to  punish  that  wickedness, 
and  sufficient  power  to  execute  that  determination.  / 
firm  belief  in  the  existence  of  God  will  heighten  a 
the  enjoyments  of  life,  and,  by  conforming  our  heart 
to  his  will,  will  secure  the  approbation  of  a  good  con 
science,  and  inspire  us  with  the  hopes  of  a  blessed  im 
mortality.  ^         .  .^ 

Never  be  tempted  to  disbelieve  the  existence  ol  G 
when  every  thing  around  you  proclaims  it  m  a  languag 
too  plain  not  to  be  understood.     Never  cast  your  eye 
on  creation  without  having  your  souls  expanded  wit, 
this  sentiment,  "  There  is  a  God."     When  you  sur 
vev  this  globe  of  earth,  with  all  its  appendages  ;  whei 
you  behold  it  inhabited  by  numberless  ranks  of  crea- 
tures,  all  moving  in  their  proper  spheres,  all  verging 
to  their  proper  ends,  all  animated  by  the  same  greai 
source  of  life,  all  supported  at  the  same  great  bounte- 
ous table  •,  when  you  behold  not  only  the  earth    but 
the  ocean  and  the  air,  ^warminj:;  with  living  creatures, 
all  happy  in  their  situation ;  when  you  behold  yonder 
sun  daning  an  elTuk^ent  blaze  of  gloi-y  over  the  heav- 
ens,  p-arnishing  mighty  worlds,  and  waking  ten  thousan- 
songs  of  praise ;  when  you  behold  unnumbered  sy 
terns  diffused  through  vast  immensity,  clothed  in  splei 
dour,  and  rolfing  in  majesty  ;  when  you  behold  tlie^ 
things,  your  affections  will  rise  above  all  the  vanities 
of  time  •  your  full  souls  will  struggle  with  ecstacy-  ^nd 


,  ar^ 
yoH 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     203 

your  reason,  passions,  and  feelings,  all  united,  will  rush 
up  to  the  skies,  with  a  devout  acknowledgment  of  the 
existence,  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  of  God. 

Let  us  behold  him,  let  us  wonder,  let  us  praise  and 
adore.  These  things  will  make  us  happy.  They  will 
wean  us  from  vice,  and  attach  us  to  virtue.  As  a  be- 
lief of  the  existence  of  God  is  a  fundamental  point  of 
salvation,  he  who  denies  it  runs  the  greatest  conceivable 
hazard.  He  resigns  the  satisfaction  of  a  good  conscience, 
quits  the  hopes  of  a  happy  immortality,  and  exposes 
himself  to  destruction.  All  this  for  what  ?  for  the 
short-lived  pleasures  of  a  riotous,  dissolute  life.  How 
wretched,  when  he  finds  his  atheistical  confidence  to- 
tally disappointed  !  Instead  of  his  beloved  sleep  and  in- 
sensibility, with  which  he  so  fondly  flattered  himself, 
he  will  find  himself  still  existing  after  death,  removed 
to  a  strange  place ;  he  will  then  find  that  there  is  a 
God,  who  will  not  sufier  his  rational  creatures  to  fall 
into  annihilation  as  a  refiige  from  the  just  punishment 
®f  their  crimes  5  he  will  find  himself  doomed  to  drag  on 
a  WTctched  train  of  existence  in  unavailing  woe  and 
lamentation.  Alas  !  how  astonished  will  he  be  to  find 
himself  plunged  in  the  abyss  of  ruin  and  desperation  i 
God  forbid  that  any  of  us  should  act  so  unwisely  as  to 
disbelieve,  when  every  thing  around  us  proclaims  his 
existence ! 


The  Dignity  of  Human  Nature. 
Extract    of  an    Oration    delivered    at    Rhode- 
Island  College,   1796. 

GUIDED  by  reason,  man  has  travelled  through 
the  abstruse  regions  of  the  philosophic  world 
1  He  has  originated  rules  by  which  he  can  direct  the  ship 
i  through  the  pathless  ocean,  and  measure  th^  comet'i 
flight  over  the  fields  of  unlimited  space.  He  has  estab 
lished  society  and  government.  He  can  aggregate  the 
profusions  of  every  climate,  and  every  season.  He  can 
meliorate  the  severity,  and  remedy  the  imperfections, 

of 


;i 


304  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

of  nature  herself.     All  these  things  he  can  perform  fey  ^ 
the  assistance  of  reason. 

By  imagination,  man  seems  to  verge  towards  crea 
tive  power.  Aided  by  this,  he  can  perform  all  the 
wonders  of  sculpture  and  painting.  He  can  almost 
make  the  marble  speak*  He  can  almost  make  the  brook 
murmur  down  the  painted  landscape.  Often,  on  the 
pinions  of  imagination,  he  soars  aloft  where  the  eye 
has  never  travelled  ;  where  other  stars  glitter  on  the 
mantle  of  night,  and  a  more  effulgent  sun  lights  up  the 
blushes  of  morning.  Flying  from  world  to  world,  he 
gazes  on  all  the  glories  of  creation  ;  or,  lighting  oh 
the  distant  margin  of  the  universe,  darts  the  eye  of 
fancy  over  the  mighty  void,  where  power  creative  never 
yet  has  energized ;  where  existence  still  sleeps  in  the 
wide  abyss  of  possibility. 

By  imagination  he  can  travel  back  to  the  source  of 
time  ;  converse  with  the  successive  generations  of  men, 
and  kindle  into  emulation  while  he  surveys  the  monu- 
mental trophies  of  ancient  art  and  glory.  He  can  sail 
down  the  stream  of  time  until  he  loses  "  sight  of  stars 
and  sun,  by  wandering  into  those  retired  parts  of  eter- 
nity, when^the  heavens  and  the  earth  shall  be  no  more.' 
To  these  unequivocal  characteristics  of  greatness  m 
•man,  let  us  adduce  the  testimony  of  nature  herself* 
Surrounding  creation  subserves  the  wants  and  proclaims 
the  dignity  of  man.  For  him  day  and  night  visit  the 
world.  For  him  the  seasons  walktheir  splendid  round. 
For  him  the  earth  teems  with  riches,  and  the  heavens 
smile  with  benificence. 

All  creation  is  accurately  adjusted  to  his  capacity  tot 
bliss.  He  tastes  the  dainties  of  festivity,  breathes  the 
Derfumes  of  morning,  revels  on  the  charms  of  melody, 
and  regales  his  eye  with  all  the  painted  beauties  of 
vision.  Whatever  can  please,  whatever  can  charm, 
Avhatever  can  expand  the  soul  with  ecstacy  of  bhss, 
allures  and  solicits  his  attention.  All  things  beautiful, 
all  things  grand,  all  things  sublime ,  appear  in  native  love- 
liness, and  proffer  man  the  richest  pleasures  of  fruition. 

Lnfernan 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  205 


Infernal  Conference. 

e-  .        TT^RIENDS  and  confederates,  welcome  ! 

Satan.    !^  for  this  proof 

Of  your  affiance,  thanks.     On  every  call, 

Whether  we  need  yo\ir  counsel  or  your  arms. 

Joyful  I  see  your  ready  zeal  displays 

Virtues,  which  hell  itself  cannot  corrupt. 

I  mean  not  to  declaim  :  the  occasion  told 

Speaks  its  own  import,  and  the  time's  dispatch 

All  waste  of  words  forbids.     God's  Son  on  earth, 

Christ,  the  reveal'd  Messias,  how  t'  oppose 

Is  now  the  question  ;  by  what  force,  or  power ; 

(Temptations  have  been  tried,  I  name  not  them;) 

Or  dark  conspiracy,  we  may  pull  down 

This  Sun  of  Righteousness  from  his  bright  sphere, 

Declare,  who  can.     I  pause  for  a  reply. 

Baal,     Why  thus  on  me,  as  I  were  worthy  ;  me, 
Lost  being  like  yourselves  ;  as  I  alone 
Could  compass  this  high  argument ;  on  me, 
Least  in  your  sapient  conclave  ;  why  you  point 
These  scrutinizing  looks,  I  muse  ;  and,  aw'd 
By  this  yoi!r  expectation,  fain  would  shrink 
From  the  grest  task  to  silence,  had  you  not 
O'er  these  poor  faculties  such  full  control^ 
As  to  put  by  all  pleas,  and  call  them  forth 
In  heaven  or  earth,  or  hell's  profound  abyss, 
Yours  in  all  uses,  present  at  all  hours. 
Our  kingly  chief  hath  told  us  we  are  met 
To  combat  Christ  on  earth.     Be't  so !  We  yet 
May  try  our  fortune  in  another  field  ; 
Worse  fortune  than  in  heav'n  befel  our  arms  ; 
Worse  downfall  than  to  hell,  we  cannot  prove. 
But  with  the  scene  our  action  too  must  change: 
How  ?  to  what  warfare  ?  Circumvention,  fraud, 
Seduction  ;  these  arc  earthly  weapons  ;  these 
As  man  to  man  opposes,  so  must  we 
To  Christ  incarnate.     There  be  some,  who  cry, 

S  Henjf 


^08  THE  COi;UMBlAN  ORATOR. 

Ileucc  ^\ ith  snc^li  dastard  arts  !  War,  open  war! 

I  honor  such  bold  counsellors,  and  yield 

All  that  I  can,  my  praise.:  till  one  be  found, 

One  that  may  rival  God's  own  Son  in  power, 

And  miracle  to  miracle  oppose, 

More  than  my  praise  I  cannot ;  my  assent 

I  will  not  give ;  'twere  madness.     And  how  war  ^ 

With  God  ?  what  arms  may  we  employ  'gainst  him, 

Whose  very  prophets  can  call  down  heaven's  fires 

Upon  our  priests  and  altars  ?  For  myself, 

What  powers  I  had  I  shall  not  soon  forget ; 

What  I  have  left  I  knovr,  and  for  your  use 

Shall  husband  as  I  may,  not  vainly  risk 

Where  they  must  surely  fail.     The  Jews  pretend 

That  Christ  colludes  with  Beelzebub  ;  the  Jews 

As  far  mistake  my  nature  as  my  name. 

The  fallacy,  O  peers,  confutes  itself, 

Forg'd  to  disparage  Christ,  not  honor  me. 

Oh !  that  I  had  his  v/onder- working  powers  •, 

I'm  not  that  fool  to  turn  them  on  myself: 

No,  my  brave  friends,  I've  yet  too  much  to  lose. 

Therefore  no  more  of  Beelzebub  and  Christ ; 

No  league,  no  compact  can  we  hold  together. 

What  then  ensues?  Despair?  Perish  the  thought  T 

The  brave  renounce  it,  and  the  wise  prevent ; 

You  are  both  wise  and  brave,     Our  leader  sayg 

Temptations  have  been  tried,  and  tried  in  vam, 

Himself  the  tempter.     Who  will  tread  that  ground, 

Where  he  was  foil'd  ?  For  Adam  a  mere  toy, 

An  apple  serv'd  ;  Christ  is  not  brib'd  by  worlds  : 

So  much  ttfc  second  Man  exceeds  the  first 

In  strength  and  glory.     But  though  Christ  hmiselt 

Will  not  be  tempted,  those  who  hear  him  may  : 

Jews  may  be  urg'd  to  envy,  to  revenge, 

To  murder  : ,  a  reballious,racc  of  old ! 

Wist  ye  not  what  a  train  this  preacher  hath, 

What  followers,  what  disciples?  These  are  men. 

Mere  men,  frail  sons  of  Adam,  born  in  sin. 

Jlsra  is  our  hope.     I  leave  it  to  your  thoughts.  - 


THE  C0LUMBIA2N  ORATOR.  207 

Muluch,     My  thoiiglits  it  seems  are  known  before  I 
speak ; 
War,  o})cn  war  is  all  my  note.     I  rise 
To  thank  the  prophet,  who  thus  reads  my  heart, 
Where  honesty  should  wear  it,  in  my  face ; 
That  face  from  danger  I  did  never  hide  \ 
How  then  from  him  ?  Nor  am  I  by  his  praise 
More  honor'd  than  by  his  dissenting  voice  : 
For  whilst  he  counsels  circumvention,  fraud, 
Seduction,  (if  my  memory  wrong  his  words 
I  yield  ft  to  correction)  we  stand  off, 
Wide  as  the  poles  apart.     Much  1  had  hop'd. 
When  the  great  tempter  fail'd,  and  in  your  ears 
Sung  his  own  honor's  dirge,  we  had  heard  the  last 
Of  plots  and  mean  temptations ;  mean  I  call  them, 
For  great  names  cannot  sanctify  mean  deeds'. 
Satan  himself  knows  I  oppos'd  th'  attempt, 
AppcaPd,  protested  ;  my  thrice  honor'd  chief    - 
Knows  it  full  well,  and  blushes  for  th'  event. 
And  are  we  now  caballing  how  t'  outwit 
A  few  poor  harmless  fishermen  ;  for  such 
Are  Christ's  disciples  ;  how  to  gull  and  cheat 
Their  simple  hearts  of  honesty  /     Oh  peers, 
For  shame,  if  not  for  pity,  leave  them  that, 
That  beggar's  virtue.     And  is  this  the  theme, 
The  mighty  theme,  which  now  employs  the  thoughts 
Of  your  immortal  synod  ?     Shame,  O  shame  ! 
Princes,  dominions,  arch-angclic  thrones, 

Imperial  lords  !     These  were  your  titles  once  ; 
By  these  names  ye  were  known  above  the  stars : 
Shame  not  your  ancient  dignities,  nor  sink 
Beneath  the  vilest  of  the  sons  of  men. 
Whisperers,  iriformers,  spies.     If  Christ  be  God, 

i  Fight,  as  bccometh  you  to  fight,  with  God  : 

I  If  man,  and  sure  his  birth  bespeaks  no  more. 

I  Why  all  this  preparation,  this  consult, 

I  These  mighty  machinations  tind'ca)>als  ? 

I  Off  with  your  foe  at  on^c  :  dismiss  liim  hence 

!  Where  all  his  brmhcr  ?)ronh«-:^:  ?'s»\  c  Ivc  n.  seat ; 

'Wfeere 


208  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Where  his  precursor  John  is  gone  before  ; 

Whose  voice  still  echoes  (hroiigh  this  wilderness, 

"  Repent  ye,  for  God's  Idngdom  is  at  hand ! 

Prepare  ye  the  Lord's  way  !"     It  is  prepar'd ; 

It  leads  to  death  ;  it  marshals  him  the  road 

To  that  oblivious  bourac,  whence  none  return. 

Herod  yet  lives ;  another  royai  feast, 

Another  wanton  dance,  and  he,  for  whom 

So  many  innocents  were  slain,  shall  fall. 

Once  vanquish'd,  are  we  therefore  to  despair  ? 

In  heav'n,  unequal  battle  we  provok'd ; 

Though  vast  our  host,  the  million  was  with  God, 

On  earth,  inquire  of  all  the  nations  round 

Whom  they  will  serve  ;  with  one  voice  they  reply, 

We  are  their  gods  ;  they  feed  us  with  their  blood, 

Their  sons  and  daughters  they  make  pass  through  fire 

To  do  us  grace  :  if  their  own  flesh  they  give, 

Shall  they  withhold  to  sacrifice  a  foe  ? 

Twelve  tribes  were  all  Jehovah  had  on  earth, 

And  ten  are  lost ;  of  this  small  remnant,  few 

And  v/retched  are  the  friends  that  league  with  Heav'n. 

And  where  is  now  Christ's  promis'd  reign  on  earth  ?  f- 

When  God's  ow^n  servants  rise  against  his  Son, 

And  those,  to  whom  the  promises  were  giy'n, 

Revolt  from  their  Messias,  can  v/e  wish 

Greater  revenge  ?     What  need  have  we  to  tempt 

Those,  who  have  hearts  rebellious  as  our  own, 

As  prompt  to  malice,  no  less  prone  to  vex 

God's  righteous  Spirit  ?     And  let  come  what  may, 

It  comes  not  to  our  loss,  rather  our  gain. 

Let  God  arise  to  vengeance  ;  let  him  pour  ^ 

Destruction  on  his  temple,  wliose  proud  height 

Our  chief  can  witness,  measur'd  by  his  fall : 

Let  him  not  leave  one  stone  upon  another, 

As  his  rash  Son  hath  menac'd  ;  let  his  wrath    , 

Through  all  th'  inhospitable  earth  disperse 

His  scatter'd  tribes  ;  such  ever  be  the  fate 

Of  all  his  w^orshippers !     May  scorn,  contempt, 

©erisien  be  their  lot,  and  mav  thcrr  God 

Nevi 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.    209 

Never  recal  his  curse  !     Are  wc,  O  peers, 
To  mourn  for  his  Jerusalem  ?     Our  joy 
Springs  from  confusion  :  enmity  'twixt  God 
And  man  is  our  best  triumph.     For  myself, 
War  is  my  harvest :  then  my  altars  blaze 
Brightest,  when  human  victims  feed  the  flame. 

Belial,     After  so  many  peaceful  ages  past 
Since  first  emerging  from  hell's  dark  abyss, 
Rous'd  by  our  arch-angelic  cliief,  wc  sprung 
Up  to  this  middle  region,  and  here  seiz'd 
On  this  terrestrial  globe,  created  first 
For  man,  our  vassal  now,  where,  at  full  ease. 
Lords  of  the  elements  and  gods  ador'd. 
We  reign  and  revel  undisturb'd  of  Heav'n. 
If  God  whose  jealousy  be  sure  ill  brooks 
That  this  fair  world  should  be  so  long  possessed 
By  us  his  exil'd  angels,  and  his  name, 
Pent  up  in  Palestine,  should  now  arouse 
His  slumbering  wrath,  and  his  best  strength  pr.t  forth 
To  \\Testle  for  lost  empire,  and  our  earth. 
As  we  in  evil  hour  his  heaven,  assail, 
Who  of  this  mighty  synod  blit  must  own 
The  provocation  waiTants  the  retort  ? 
If  then  the  Maker  of  mankind  hath  cause 
To  meditate  their  rescue,  we  no  less 
Have  cause  t'  oppose  th'  attempt,  and  hold  them  fast 
To  their  allegiance  in  desj-jite  of  Heav'n. 
Much  then  we  owe  to  our  great  leader's  care, 
Who,  ever  watchful  o'er  the  public  weal, 
Calls  us  to  this  full  council,  here  to  meet 
In  grave  consult  how  best  we  may  repair 
Past  disappointments,  and  repel  the  spite 
Of  this  new  Champion,  levelPd  at  our  shrines. 
Great  is  the  trouble  of  my  thoughts,  O  peers, 
And  much  perplex'd  am  I  with  douks,  what  name. 
Nature,  and  office  to  ascribe  to  Christ ; 
In  form  the  lowliest  of  the  sons  of  men, 
In  miracles  omnipotent  as  God  ; 
Whose  voice  controli^the  stoutest  of  our  host,     . 

»^  5  '  Bid) 


210  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 

Bids  the  graves  open  and  their  dead  come  forth ; 
Whose  very  touch  is  heakh  ;  who  with  a  glance 
Pervades  each  heart,  absolves  it  or  condemns  ; 
Whose  virgin  birth  credulity  scarce  owns, 
And  nature  disavows.     Prais'd  to  all  time, 
Immortal  as  himself  be  the  renown 
Of  that  wise  spirit,  who  shall  devise  the  means 
By  force  or  fraud  to  overthrow  the  power 
Of  this  mysterious  foe  :  what  shall  I  say? 
Priest,  Prophet,  King,  Messius,  Son  of  God? 
Yet  how  God's  unity,  which  well  we  know- 
Endures  no  second,  should  adopt  a  Son, 
And  essence  indivisible  divide. 
Baffles  my  weak  conjecture.     Let  that  pass. 
To  such  hard  doctrines  I  subscribe  no  faith : 
I'll  call  him  man  inspir'd,  and  wait  till  death 
Gives  sentence  of  mortality  upon  him. 
Meanwhile  let  circumspection  on  our  part 
Fill  all  the  anxious  interim  ;  alarm 
Rome's  jealousy  ;  stjr  up  the  captious  spleen 
Of  the  proud  Pharisee  ;  beset  him  round 
With  snares  to  catch  him  j  urge  the  envious  priests. 
For  envy  still  beneath  the  altar  lurks  ; 
And  note  the  man  he  trusts.     Mammon  could  tell, 
Though  Mammon  boasts  not  of  his  own  success, 
How  few  of  human  mould  have  yet  withstood 
His  glittering,  golden  lures.     The  sword  can  kill 
Man's  body  5  gold  destroys  his  very  soul. 
Yet  mark  me  well,  I  counsel  not  to  tempt 
The  M?tStf^r ;  poverty  can  do  no  more 
Than  his  own  mortifying  penance  does, 
Hunger  and  thirst  and  obs^.inatcly  starve, 
VYlicn  his  mere  wish  could  make  the  rock  a  spring. 
And  its  hard  fr^igments,  bread.     Yet  sure  I  am 
Ail  are  not  Christ's  in  heart,  who  with  their  lips 
€orifess  him  ;  these  are  men,  and  therefore  frail, 
Frail  and  corruptible.     And  let  none  say, 
Fear  prompts  this  counsel;.  1  disclaim  all  fear 
But  for  th«  §e»eral  cause*    *»%Mpry  ibeai* 


1 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR,  2U 

Nature  hath  built  my  altar ;  every  sect, 
Nation  and  language  with  one  voice  confess 
Pleasure  the  sovereign  good.     The  Stoie  churl, 
The  dogged  cynic  snarling  in  his  tub, 
And  all  the  ragged  moralizing  crew, 
Are  hypocrites  ;  philosophy  itself 
Is  but  my  votary  bene-ath  a  cloak. 
It  harms  not  me,  though  every  idol  god 
Were  tumbled  from  his  base  ;  alike  I  scorn 
Samson's  strong  nerve  and  Daniel's  flaming  zeaL 
And  let  Christ  preach  his  mortifying  rules  ; 
Let  him  go  forth  through  all  the  Gentile  world, 
And  on  the  ruin  of  our  fanes  erect 
His  church  triumphant  o'er  the  gates  of  hell, 
Still,  still  man's  heart  will  draw  the  secret  sigh 
For  pleasures  unenjoyed  ;  the  gloomy  cell 
And  melancholy  fast,  the  midnight  prayer, 
And  pale  contrition  weeping  o'er  her  lamp, 
Are  penances,  from  which  the  sense  revolts, 
Fines,  that  compounding  superstition  pays 
For  pleasures  past,  or  bribes  for  more  to  come. 

Satan.     Enough  of  this  vain  boast, 
More  than  enough  of  these  voluptuous  strains. 
Which,  though  they  lull  the  ear,  disarm  the  soul 
Ofits  best  attribute.     Not  gaudy  flowers 
Are  cull'd  for  medicine,  but  the  humble  weed. 
True  wisdom,  ever  frugal  of  her  speech, 
Gives  sasre  advice  in  plain  and  homely  words. 
The  sum  of  all  our  reasoning  ends  m  this, 
That  nothing  but  the  death  of  Christ  can  solve 
The  myst'ry  of  his  nature  :  till  he  falls, 
Scarce  can  I  say  we  stand.     All  voices  then, 
Though  varying  in  the  means,  conspire  his  death; 
Some  cautiously  as  Baal ;  some  with  zeal 
Precipitate  as  Moloch,  whose  swift  thought 
Vaults  over  all  impediments  to  seize 
The  goal  of  his  ambition.     But,  O  peers, 
Ours  is  no  trivial  care  ;  direct  your  sight 
Along  the  ranks  of  that  redeemed  host, 

Gn 


219  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

On  us  hangs  ali  thefr  safety.     Night  and  day 
My  anxious  thoughts  are  lab'ring  in  llieir  cause ; 
And  whilst  Christ  vvalks  the  earth,  I  take  no  rest; 
A  watchful:  spy  forever  at  his  side, 
Noting  each  word  and  deed,  sometimes  I  mix 
With  the  selected  Twelve  that  page  his  steps ; 
Of  these,  though  some  have  vravercd,  none  is  false 
Save  one  alone,  Iscariot  he  by  name  ;  •'' 

The  taint  of  avarice  hath  touch'd  his  heart; 
I've  mark'd  him  for  my  oAvn.     Hear,  princes,  hear  1 
This  night  the  priests  and  elders  will  convene 
Their  secret  conclave  :  I  am  in  their  hearts. 
Burning  with  envy,  malice,  and  revenge^ 
Their  only  t}>(5ught  is  how  to  tangle  Christ, 
In  whom  of  force  I  own  no  guile  is  found, 
But  gentleness  instead,  and  perfect  truth  ; 
A  iamb  in  nature  without  spot  and  pure  ; 
Fit  victim  therefore  for  their  Paschal  rites, 
Which  now  rsre  near  at  hand :  apt  is  the  hour, 
Apt  are  the  instrumCxits.     What  now  remains 
But  to  send  forth  a  tempter  to  persuade 
Iscariot  to  betray  his  Master's  life, 
And  damn  himself  for  gold  ?     Speak,  is  there  one, 
One  in  this  patriot  circle,  whom  all  eyes 
Point  out  for  this  emprise  ?     Most  sure  there  is ; 
Belial  hath  well  predicted  of  our  choice  : 
Mammon,  stand  forth !  on  thee  th'  election  lights. 
Mammon.     Prince   of  this  world  1  to  whom   these 
armies  owe, 
(Lost  but  for  thee  iti  everlasting  night) 
The  glorious  prospect  of  yon  rising  sun, 
'Tis  not  t'  evade  the  labour,  but  prevent 
The  failure  of  your  hopes,  that  1  beseech 
Your  wisdom  to  correct  its  choice,  and  lodge 
This  arduous  embassy  in  abler  hands  : 
Nathless,  if  such  your  will,  and  my  compeers 
Adjudge  me  to  this  service,  I  submit. 
In  me  fs  no  repugnance,  no  delay  ; 
For  ever  what  these  toiline:  hands  could  do 

©r 


THE  COLUMBIAN'  ORATOR  ^^13 

Or  patient  thoughts  devise,  that  I  have  done  ; 

Whether  in  heaven  ordain'd  to  undermine 

God's  adamantine  throne,  ©r  doom'd  to  dig. 

The  solid  sulphur  of  hell's  burning  soil, 

Fearless  I  wrought,  and,  were  there  no  tongues  else 

To  vouch  my  services,  these  scars  would  speak. 

How  many  daintier  spirits  do  I  sec 

Fair  as  in  heav'n,  and  in  fresh  bloom  of  youth, 

Whilst  I,  with  shriveird  sinews,  cramp'd  and  scorch'd, 

'Midst  pestilential  damps  and  fiery  blasts, 

Drag  as  you  see  a  miserable  load, 

Age-struck  without  the  last  resource  of  death  : 

This  for  myself  :  no  more.     You're  not  to  learn 

The  snares  which  I  employ  nre  golden  snares  ; 

These  are  my  arts  ;  and  like  the  crafty  slave, 

W^ho  in  Rome's  circus  hurls  the  fatal  net 

Over  his  fierce  pursuer,  so  oft  times 

Have  I  entangled  the  proud  hearts  of  men, 

And  made  their  courage  stoop  to  shameful  bribes, 

Paid  for  dishonest  deeds,  perjuries  and  plots, 

That  draw  them  off  from  God,  who  else  had  fill'd 

His  courts  ere  now  with  guests,  and  peopled  heav'n. 

These  weapons  and  these  hands  you  still  command  : 

So  dear  I  hold  the  general  cause  at  heart, 

So  disciplin'd  am  I  in  duty's  school, 

That  reckless  of  all  hazard  T  present 

Myself  your  servant,  or,  if  so  fate  wills, 

Your  sacrifice  :  for  though  from  mortal  man 

Discomfiture  I  dread  not ;  yet  if  Christ, 

W^hom  the  great  tempter  foil'd  not,  shall  stand  forth 

The  cham[)ion  of  his  followers,  witness  for  me. 

You,  my  brave  peers,  and  this  angelic  liost, 

I  sought  not  this  bold  height,  whence  if  I  fall, 

1  do  but  fall  where  Satan  could  not  stand. 

Satan,  Go  then ; 
Go,  brave  adventurer,  go  where  glory  calls : 
Auspicious- thoughts  engender  in  niy  breast. 
And  now  prophetic  visions  burst  upon  me  : 
T  see  the  trailer  Jiulas  with  a  band 

Of 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR,     214 

Of  niidnight  ruffians  seize  his  peaceful  Lord  : 
They  drag  him  to  the  bar,  accuse,  condemn  ; 
He  bleeds,  he  dies !  Darkness  involves  the  rest. 
Ascend  the  air,  brave  spirit  and  midst  the  shout 
Of  grateful  myriads  wing  thy  course  to  fame. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech  in  the  British 
Parliament,  May  13,  1777. 


Mv  Lords, 

THIS  is  a  ilying  moment ;  perhaps  but  six  weeks 
left  to  arrest  the  dangers  that  surround  us.  It  is 
liifficult  for.  government,  after  all  that  has  passed,  to 
shake  hands  with  defiers  of  the  king,  defiers  of  the  par- 
liament, defiers  of  the  people.  I  am  a  defier  of  nobody ; 
but  if  an  end  is  not  put  to  this  war,  there  is  an  end  to  t 
this  kingdom.  I  do  not  trust  my  judgment  in  my  pres-  j 
ent  state  of  health ;  this  is  the  judgment  of  my  better 
days ;  the  result  of  forty  years  attention  to  America. 
They  are  rebels  !  but  what  are  they  rebels  for  ?  Surely 
not  for  defending  their  unquestionable  rights !  What 
have  these  r.-bels  done  heretofore  ?  I  remember  when 
they  raised  four  regiments  on  their  own  bottom,  and 
took  Louisbourg  from  the  veteran  troops  of  France. 

But  their  excesses  have  been  great !  I  do  not  mean 
their  panegyric  ;  but  must  observe,  in  extenuation,  the 
erroneous  and  infatuated  counsels,  which  have  pre- 
yailed.  The  door  to  mercy  and  justice  has  been  shut 
against  them.  But  they  may  still  be  taken  up  upon  the 
o-rounds  of  their  former  submission.  1  state  to  you  the 
importance  of  America  ;  it  is  a  double  market^  a  market 
of  consumption,  and  a  market  of  supply.  1  his  double 
market  for  millions  with  naval  stores,  you  arc  giving 
to  your  hereditary  rival. 

America  has  carried  you  through  four  wars,  and  will 
now  carry  you  to  your  death,  if  you  do  not  take  things 
in  time.     In  the  sportsman's  phrase,  when  you  have 

found 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     215 

jiound  yourselves  at  fault,  you  must  try  back.  You  have 
ransacked  every  corner  of  lower  Saxony ;  but  forty 
thousand  German  boors  never  can  conquer  ten  times 
the  number  of  British  freemen.  They  may  ravage  j 
they  cannot  conquer.  But  you  would  conquer,  you 
say  !  Why,  what  would  you  conquer?  the  map  of  Ame- 
rica ?  I  am  ready  to  meet  any  general  officer  on  the 
subject. 

What  will  you  do  out  of  the  protection  of  your 
fleet  ?  In  the  w^inter,  if  together,  they  are  starved ; 
and  if  dispersed,  they  are  taken  off  in  detail.  I  am  exr 
perienced  in  spring  hopes  and    vernal  promises.     I 

I  know  what  ministers  throw  out ;  but  at  last  will  come 
your  equinoctial  disappointment.     They  tell  you 

-  what  ?  That  your  army  will  be  as  strong  as  it  was 
last  year,  when  it  was  not  strong  enough.     You  hare 

•?  gained  nothing  in  America  but  stations.  You  have  been 
uiree  years  teaching  them  the  art  of  war.  They  are 
apt  scholars  ;  and  1  will  venture  to  tell  your  lordships, 
that  the  American  gentry  will  make  officers  enough,  fit 
to  command  the  troops  of  all  the  European  powers. 
What  you  have  sent  there  are  too  many  to  make  peace, 
too  few  to  make  v/ar. 

If  you  conquer  them,  what  then  ?  You  cannot  make 
them  respect  you  ;  you  cannot  make  them  wear  your 
cloth.  You  will  plant  an  invincible  hatred  in  their 
breasts  against  you.  Coming  from  the  stock  they  do, 
they  can  never  respect  you.  If  ministers  are  founded 
in  saying  there  is  no  sort  of  treaty  with  France,  there 
is  still  a  moment  left ;  the  point  of  honor  is  still  safe. 
France  must  be  as  self  destroying  as  England,  to  make 
a  treaty  while  you  arc  giving  her  America,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  twelve  millions  a  year.  The  intercourse  has 
produced  eyery  tiling  to  France ;  and  England,  poor 
old  England  must  pay  for  all. 

I  have  at  difTerent  times  made  different  propositions, 
adapted  to  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  offer- 
ed. The  plan  contained  in  the  former  bill  is  now  im- 
practicable ;    the  preseiit  motion  will  tell  you  where 

vou 


216  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

you  are,  and  what  you  have  now  to  depend  upon.  It 
may  produce  a  respectable  division  in  America,  and  una- 
nimity at  home.  It  will  give  America  an  o])tion  :  she 
has  yet  made  no  option.  You  have  said,  Lay  down 
your  arms,  and  she  has  given  you  the  Spartan  auswer, 
"  Come  and  take  them." 

I  will  get  out  of  my  bed,  on  Monday,  to  move  for 
an  immediate  redress  of  all  their  grievances,  and  for 
continuing  to  them  the  right  of  disposing  of  their  own 
property.  This  will  be  fhe  herald  of  peace  ;  this  will 
open  the  way  for  treaty ;  this  will  show  that  parliament 
is  sincerely  disposed.  Yet  still  much  must  be  left  to 
treaty.  Should  you  conquer  this  people,  you  conquer, 
undei-  the  cannon  of  France  ;  under  a  masked  battery 
then  ready  to  open.  The  moment  a  treaty  with  France 
appears,  you  must  declare  war,  though  you  had  only 
five  ships  of  the  line  in  England  :  but  France  will  defer 
a  treaty  as  long  as  possible. 

You  are  now  at  the  mercy  of  every  little  German 
chancery  ;  and  the  pretensions  of  France  will  increase 
daily,  so  as  to  become  an  avowed  party  in  either  peace 
or  war.  We  have  tried  for  unconditional  submission  j 
let  us  try  what  can  be  gained  by  unconditional  re- 
dress. Less  dignity  will'  be  lost  in  the  repeal,  than  in 
submitting  to  the  demands  of  German  chanceries.  We 
are  the  aggressors.  We  have  invaded  them.  We 
have  invaded  them  as  much  as  the  Spanish  armada  in- 
vaded LMgland.  Mercy  cannot  do  harm  \  it  will  seat 
the  king  where  he  ought  to  be,  throned  on  the  hearts 
of  his  people  ;  and  millions  at  home  and  abroad,  now 
employed  in  obloquy  or  revolt,  would  then  pray  for 
him. 

On 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  217 


On  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

AT  midnight,  when  mankind  are  wrap'd  in  peace, 
And  worldly  fancy  feeds  on  golden  dreams  ; 
To  give  more  dread  to  man's  most  dreadful  hour ; 
At  midnight,  'tis  presum'd,  this  pomp  will  burst 
From  tenfold  darkness  ;  sudden  as  the  spark 
yrom  smitten  steel ;  from  nitrous  grain  the  blaze. 
Man,  starting  from  his  couch,  shall  sleep  no  more  ! 
The  day  is  broke  which  never  more  shall  close! 
Above,  around,  beneath,  amazement  all! 
^Terror  and  glory  join'd  in  their  extremes  ! 
Ovu'  God  in  grandeur,  and  our  world  on  fire ! 
All  nature  struggling  in  the  pangs  of  death  ! 
Dost  thou  not  hear  her  ?  Dost  thou  not  deplore 
Her  strong  convulsions,  and  her  final  groan  ? 
Where  are  wenow  ?  Ah  me  1  the  ground  is  gone, 
On  which  we  stood,  LORENZO  !  while  thou  mayst, 
Provide  more  firm  support,  or  sink  forever ! 
Where  ?  how  ?  from  whence  ?  vmn  hope !  It  is  too  late ! 
Where,  where,  for  shelter,  shall  the  guilti/  fly, 
When  consternation  turns  the  good  man  pale  ? 

Great  day  !  for  which  all  other  days  were  made  ; 
For  which  earth  rose  from  chaos,  man  from  earth  ; 
And  an  eternity,  the  date  of  gods. 
Descended  on  poor  earth^created  man ! 
Great  day  of  dread,  decision,  and  despair  ! 
At  thought  of  thee,  each -sublunary  wish 
Lets  go  its  eager  grasp,  and  drops  the  world ; 
And  catches  at  each  reed  of  hope  in  heav'n. 
At  thought  of  thee  !  And  art  tiiou  absent  then, 
LORENZO  !  no  ;  'tis  here  ;  it  is  begun ; 
Already  is  begun  the  grand  assize, 
In  thee,  in  all.     Deputed  conscience  scales 
The  dread  tribunal,  and  forestals  our  doom  : 
Forestals  ;  and,  by  forestalling,  proves  it  sure. 
Why  on  himself  should  man  i»««Vi  judgment  pais  ? 

T  If 


218  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Is  idle  nature  laughing  at  her  sons  ? 

Who  conscience  sent,  her  sentence  will  support, 

And  God  above  assert  M«/  God  in  man.    ' 

Thrice  happy  they,  who  enter  now  the  court 
Heav'n  opens  in  their  bosoms  :  but,  how  rare  ! 
Ah  me  !  that  magnanimity  how  rare  ! 
What  hero,  like  the  man  who  stands  himself; 
Who  dares  to  meet  his  naked  heart  alone  ; 
Who  hears,  intrepid,  the  full  charge  it  brings, 
Resolv'd  to  silence  future  murmurs  there  ? 
The  coward  flies ;  and  flying  is  undone. 
(Art  thou  a  coward  ?  No.)    The  coward  flies  ; 
Thinks,  but  thinks  slightly ;  asks,  but  fears  to  know  ; 
Asks  "  What  is  truth  ?"  with  Pilate  ;  and  retires  ; 
Dissolves  the  court,  and  mingles  with  the  throng ; 
Asylum  sad !  from  reason,  hope,  and  heaven  ! 

Shall  all,  but  man,  look  out  with  ardent  eye. 
For  that  great  day,  w^hich  was  ordain'd  for  man  ? 
"O  day  of  consummation  !  Mark  supreme 
(If  men  are  wise)  of  human  thought !  nor  least, 
Or  in  the  sight  of  angels,  or  their  King ! 
Angels,  whose  radiant  circles,  height  o'er  height, 
Order  o'er  order  rising,  blaze  o'er  blaze, 
As  in  a  theatre,  surround  this  scene. 
Intent  on  man,  and  anxious  for  his  fate  : 
Angels  look  out  for  thee  ;  for  thee,  their  Lord, 
To  vindicate  his  glory  ;  and  for  thee. 
Creation  universal  calls  aloud. 
To  disjnvolve  the  moral  world,  and  give 
To  Nattire's  renovation  lu'ighter  charms. 

The 


^ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  219 


The    dissipated    Oxford    Student,    a    Dialogue 

BETWEEN    a    BrOTHER    AND    HIS    TWO    SiSTERS. 


Lionel,  Lavinia,  and  Camilla. 

Lionel,  pr^^  ^°  y^"  ^o»  g^^^s  ?  how  do  you  do  ? 

XX  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  upon  my  soul  1  am. 

[Shaking  them  hard  hy  the  hand, 

Lavinia,     I  thought,  brother,  you  had  been  at  Dr. 
Marchmont's  ! 
>     Lion,  All  in  good  tunc,  my  dear;  I  shall  certainly 
•'visit  the  old  gendeman  before  long. 

Lav,     G ra cicrus ,  Lionel ! — I f  my  motlicr r 

Lion,     My  dear  little  Lavinia,  \Chucking  her  under 
the  chin']  I  have  a  mighty  notion  of  making  visits  at  my 
'*6wn  time  and  appointment,  instead  of  my  mamma- s. 

Lav,     O  Lionel !  and  can  you  just  now 

Lion,  Come,  come,  don't  let  us  waste  our  precious 
moments  in  this  fulsome  moralizing.  If  I  had  not  luck- 
ily been  hard  by,  I  should  not  have  known  the  coast 
was  clear.  Pray  where  are  the  old  folks  gone  tanti- 
vying  ? 

Camilla,     To  Clcves. 

Lion,  To  Clevcs !  What  a  happy  escape !  I  was 
upon  the  point  of  going  thither  myself.  Camilla,  what 
is  the  matter  with  thee,  my  little  duck  ? 

Cayn,  Nothing — I  am  only  thinking — Pray  when 
do  you  go  to  Oxford  ? 

Lion,  Poh,  poh,  v/hat  do  you  talk  of  Oxford  for  ? 
you  are  grown  quite  stupid,  girl.  I  believe  you  ha\  t 
lived  too  long  v/ith  that  old  maid  of  a  Margland.  Pray 
how  does  that  dear  creature  do  ?  I  am  ali-aid  she  will 
grow  melancholy  from  not  seeing  me  so  long.  Is  she 
^as  pretty  as  she  used  to  be  ?  1  have  some  notion  oi 
sending  her  a  suitor. 

Lav,     O  brother,  is  it  possible  you  can  have  such 


220  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOT.  *'^- 

Lion.  O  hang  it ;  if  one  is  not  merry  when  one 
«an,  what  is  the  world  good  for  ?  Besides,  I  do  assure 
ym,  I  fretted  so  consumedly  hard  at  first,  that  for  the 
life  of  me  I  can  fret  no  longer. 

Crtw.     But  why  are  you  not  at  Dr.  Marchmont's  ? 

Lion.  Because,  my  dear  soul ,  you  can't  conceive  ho^r 
much  pleasure  those  old  doctors  take  hi  lecturing  a 
youngster  who  is  in  any  disgrace. 

4'a/?2.     Disgrace ! 

Lav.  At  all  events,  I  beseech  you  to  be  a  little  care- 
;ul ;  I  would  not  have  my  poor  mother  find  you  here 
for  the  world. 

Lien.  O,  as  to  that,  I  defy  her  to  desire  the  meeting 
Jess  than  I  do.  But  come,  let's  talk  of  something  else, 
liow  go  on  the  classics  ?  Is  my  old  friend.  Dr.  Ork- 
borne,  as  chatty  and  amusing  as  ever? 

Cam.     My  dear  Lionel,  I  am  filled  with  apprehen- 
sion and  perplexity.     Why  should  my  mother  wish  not 
to  see  you  ?  And  why — and  how   is  it   possible   you 
can  wish  not  to  see  her  ? 
.    Lion.     What,  don't  you  know  it  all  ? 

Cam.  I  only  know  that  something  is  wrong  ;  but 
how,  what,  or  which  way,  I  have  not  heard. 

Lion,     Has  not  Lavinia  told  you,  then  ? 

Lav.  No ;  I  could  be  in  no  haste  to  give  her  s# 
much  pain. 

Lio?i.  You  are  a  good  girl  enough.  But  how  came 
you"  here,  Camilla  ?  and  what  is  the  reason  you  have 
rjot  seen  my  mother  yourself? 

Cam.  Not  seen  her !  1  have  been  with  her  this  half 
hour. 

Lion.  What !  and  in  all  that  time  did  she  not  tell 
you? 

Cam.     She  did  not  name  you. 

Lion.  Is  it  possible  !  Well,  she's  a  noble  creature,  I 
must  confess,  I  wonder  how  she  could  ever  have  such 
a  son.  And  I  am  still  less  like  my  father  than  I  am 
like  her.  I  believe  in  my  conscience  I  was  changed  in 
the  cradle.     Will  you  own  me,  young,  ladies,  if  some 

villano;-. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  22} 

villanous  attorney  or  exciseman  should  claim  me  by 
and  by?' 

Cam.^'  Dear  Lionel,  do  explain  to  me  what  has  hap- 
pened. '  You  talk  so  wildly,  that  you  make  me  think 
it  important  and  trifling  twenty  times  in  a  minute. 

Lion,  O,  a  hon-id  business  !  Lavinia  must  tell  you. 
V\\  withdraw  till  she  has  done.  Don't  despise  me, 
Camilla.  1  am  confounded  sorry,  I  assure  you.  [Go- 
ing ;  and  then  immediately  returningS\  Come,  upon 
the  whole  I  had  better  tell  it  you  myself:  for  she'll 
make  such  a  dismal  ditty  of  il,  that  it  won't  be  over 
this  half  year.  The  sooner  we  have  done  with  it  the 
better.  It  will  only  put  you  out  of  spirits.  You 
must  know  I  w^as  in  rather  a  bad  scrape  at  Oxford  last 


year 

Cam,     Last  year !  and  you  never  told  us  of  it  before  ! 

Lion,  O,  'twas  about  something  you  would  not  un- 
derstand ;  so  I  shall  not  mention  particulars  now.  It 
is  enough  for  you  to  know,   that  two  or  three  of  us 

wanted  a  litde  cash !  Well,  so in  short,  I  sent  a 

letter — somewhat  of  a  threatening  sort — to  old  uncle 
Relvil ;  and — 

Cam,     O  Lionel ! 

Lion,  O,  I  did  not  sign  it*  It  was  only  begging  a 
little  money,  w^hich  he  can  afford  to  spare  very  well ; 
and  just  telling  him,  if  he  did  not  send  it  to  a  certain 
place  wdiich  I  mentioned,  he  would  have  his  brains 
blown  out.' 

Cam.     How  horrible ! 

Lion,  Poh,  poh;  he  had  only  to  send  the  money, 
you  know,  and  then  his  brains  might  keep  their  place. 
Besides,  you  can't  suppose  there  was  gunpowder  in  the 
words  ;  though,  to  be  sure,  the  letter  was  charged  with 
a  few  vollies  of  oaths^ .  But,  would  you  believe  it ! 
the  poor  old  gull  was  fool  enough  actually  to  send  the 
money  where  he  was  directed. 

Lav,  Hold,  hold,  Lionel!  I  cannot  endure  to  hear 

you  speak  in  such  disgraceful  terms  of  that  worthy 

man.     How  could  you  treat  that  excellent  uncle  in 

T  2  such 


222  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATCJR: 

such  a  cruel  manner !  How  could  you  find  a  hearC  ta- 
swear  at  so  meek,  so  benevolent,  so  indulgent 

Lion,  My  dear  little  chicken,  don't  be  so  precise 
and  old  maidish.  Don't  you  know  it's  a  relief  to  a 
man's  mind  to  swear  a  few  cutting  oaths  now  and  then, 
when  he's  in  a  passion  ?  when  all  the  time  he  would 
no  more  do  harm  to  the  people  he  swears  at,  than  you 
would,  who  mince  out  all  your  words  as  if  you  werej 
talking  treason,  and  thought  every  man  a  spy  that  heard 
you.  It  is  a  very  innocent  refreshment  to  a  man's 
mind,  my  dear.  But  the  ditficulty  is,  you  know  notlii 
ing  of  the  world. 

Cam,  Fie,  brother  !  You  know  how  sickly  our  un- 
cle has  always  been, and  how  easily  he  might  be  alarmed. 

Lion,  Why,  yes,  Camilla  ;  I  really  think  it  was  a 
very  wicked  trick  ;  and  I  would  give  half  my  little  fin- 
ger that  I  had  not  done  it.  But  it's  over  now,  you 
know;  so  what  signifies  making  the  worst  of  it? 

Cam,     And  did  he  not  discover  you  ? 

Lion,  No ;  J  gave  him  })articular  orders,  in  my 
letter,  not  to  attempt  any  thing  of  that  sort ;  assuring 
him  there  were  spies  about  him  to  watch  his  proceedings. 
The  good  old  simple toH  took  it  all  for  gospel.  So  there 
the  matter  ended.  However,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it, 
about  three  months  ago,  we  wanted  another  sum 

Lav.     And  could  you  again 

*  Lion,.  Why,  my  dear,  it  was  only  taking  a  little  of 
my  own  fortune  beforehand,  for  I  am  his  heir;  so  we 
all  agreed  it  was  merely  robbing  myself ;  for  we  had 
sevei'al  consultations  about  it ;  and  one  of  us  is  to  be  a 
?awycr.. 

Cam,  But  you  give  me  some  pleasure  here  ;  for  I 
had  never  heard  that  my  uncle  had  made  you- his  heir. 

Lion,  Neither  had  I,  my  deary;  but  1  take  it  for 
fi;ranted.  Besides,  our  little  lawyer  put  it  into  my  head. 
Well,  wi  wrote  again,  and  told  the  poor  old  soul,  for 
which  I  assure  you  I  am  heartily  penitent,  that,  if  he  did 
not  send  ms  double  the  sum,  in  the  same  manner,  without 
delay,  his  hou»e  was  to  be  set  on  fe,  while  he  ^nd  all 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2^23 

his  family  were  in  bed  and  asleep.  Now  don't  make 
faces  nor  shruggings  ;  for  1  promise  you,  I  think  al- 
ready I  deserve  to  be  hung  for  giving  him  the  fright ;' 
though  I  would  not  really  have  hurt  the  hair  of  his 
head  for  half  his  fortune.  But  who  could  have  guess- 
ed that  the  old  codger  would  have  biHeyi  so  readily  t 
The  money,  however,  came ;  and  we  thought  the 
business  all  secure,  and  agreed  to  get  the  same  sum  an- 
nually. 

Cam,     Annually  !  O  horrible  ! 

Lion,  i'es,  my  darling.  You  have  no  conception 
how  conv^enient  it  would  have  been  for  our  extra  ex- 
penses. But  unluckily,  uncle  grew  worse,  and  went 
abroad  ;  and  then  consulted  with  some  crab  of  a  friend, 
and  that  friend,  Avith  some  demagogue  of  a  magistrate, 
and  so  all  is  now  blown.  However,  v/c  had  managed 
it  so  cleverly,  that  it  cost  them  nearly  three  months  to 
find  it  out ;  owing,  I  must  confess,  to  poor  uncle's  cow- 
"ardice,  in  not  making,  his  inquiries  before  the  money 
was  carried  off,  and  he  himself  be}  ond  tlie  sea.  The 
other  particulars  La vinia  must  give  you;:  for  T have 
talked  of  it  now  till  1  have  made  myself  quite  rick. 
Do  tell  me  some  diverting  story  to  drive  it  a  little  out 
of  my  head.  But,  by  the  way,  pray  what  has  carried 
the  old  folks  to  Cleves  ?  Have  they  gone  to  tell  this  sad 
tale  to  uncle  Hugh,  so  that  1  might  lose  him  too? 

Lav.  No;  your  afihcted  jrarents  are  determined 
ROt  to  name  it.  They  are  striving,  that  nobody  else 
shall  know  any  thing  of  the  matter,  except  Dr.  March- 
mont. 

Lio7i.  Well,  they  are  good  souls,  it  must  be  acknowl- 
edged. I  wish  I  deserved  them  better.  I  wish  too  it 
was  not  such  plaguy  dull  busmess  to  be  good.  1  con- 
fess, girls,  it  wounds  my  conscience  to  think  how  I 
have  afflicted. my  parents,  especially  my  poor  mother, 
who  is  not  so  well  able  to  bear  it.  But  when  one  is 
at  Oxford,  or  in  London— your  merry  blades  there,  I 
can't  deny  it,  my  dear  sisters,  your  merry  blades  there 
are  but  sad  fellows.    Yet  there  is. such  fun,  such  spirit, 

such 


224  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

such  genuine  sport  among  them,  I  cannot,  for  my  life, 
keep  out  of  the  way.  Besides,  you  have  no  concep- 
tion, young  ladies,  what  a  bye- word  you  soon  become 
among  them,  if  they  find  you  jlmching.  But  this  i^ 
litde-  to  the  purpose  ;  for  you  know  nothing  of  life  yet, 
poor  things. 

Lav,  I  would  not  for  the  world  say  any  thing  to 
pain  you,  my  dear  brother;  but  if  this  is  what  you 
call  life,  I  wish  we  never  might  know  any  thing  of  it. 
I  wish  more,  that  you  had  been  so  happy  as  never  to 
have  known  it.  You  pity  our  ignorance,  we  pity  your 
folly.  How  strangely  infatuate'd  you  are !  But  yet  I 
will  hope,  that,  in  future,  your  first  study  will  be  to  re- 
sist such  dangerous  examples,  and  to  shun  such  unwor- 
thy friends.  Pray  reflect  one  moment  on  the  distressing 
situation  of  your  dear  parents,  who  cannot  endure 
your  presence,  through  the  poignancy  of  grief!  What 
labours  and  hardships  has  your  poor  father  encountered, 
to  gain  wherewithal  to  support  you  at  the  University ! 
And  what  is  your  return  !  Such,  my  dear  brother,  as  will 
soon  bring  down  his  grey  hairs  with  son-ow  to  the  grave. 
As  for  your  poor  mother,  it  is  quite  uncertain  whether 
any  of  us  ever  see  her  again,  as  your  much  injured 
uncle  has  sent  for  her  over  sea  to  attend  him  in  his'sick- 
ness  ;  and  to-morrow  she  sets  out.  She  has  left  it  in 
solemn  charge  with  me,  to  deliver  you  a  message  from^ 
her,  which,  if  you  have  any  sensibility  remaining,  will 
cut  you  to  the  heart. 

Lion,  I  know  she  can  have  said  nothing  worse  than  I 
expect,  or  than  I  merit.  Probe  me,  then,  Lavinia,  with- 
out delay.  Keep  me  not  in  a  moment's  suspense.  I 
ieel  a  load  of  guilt  upon  mc,  and  begin  sincerely  to  re- 
pent. She  is  acting  towards  me  like  an  angel ;  and  if 
she  were  to  command  me  to  turn  hermit,  I  know  I 
ought  to  obey  her. 

Lav.  Well,  then,  my  mother  says,  my  dear  Lionel, 
that  the. fraud  you  have  practised 

Lion,  ■  The  fraud !  what  a  horrid  word !  Whv  it 
was  a  mere  trick!  a  joke!  a  frolic!  iust  to  make* an 

old 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2i2& 

M  hunks  open  his  purse-strings  to  his  natural  heir.  I 
am  astonished  at  my  mother!  I  really  don't  care  whether 
1  hear  another  syllable. 

Lav,  Well,  then,  my  dear  Lionel,  I  will  wait  till 
you  are  calmer:  my  mother,  I  am  sure,  did  not  mean 
to  irritate,  but  to  convince. 

Lion,  IStriding  about  the  room.]  My  mother  m^kcs 
no  allowances.  She  has  no  faults  herself,  and  for  that 
reason  she  thinks  nobody  else  should  have  any.  }3e- 
sides,  how  should  she  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  young 
man  ?  and  to  want  a  little  cash,  and  not  to  know  how 
to  get  it  ? 

Lav,  But  I  am  sure,  if  you  wanted  it  for  any  prop- 
er purpose,  my  father  would  have  denied  himself  every 
thing,  in  order  to  supply  you. 

Lion.  Yes,  yes  ;  but  suppose  I  want  it  for  a  pur-pose 
that  is  not  proper,  how  am  I  to  get  it  then  ? 

Cam,  Why,  then,  my  dear  Lionel,  surely  you  must 
be  sensible  you  ought  to  go  without  it. 

Lion.  Aye,  that's  as  you  girls  say,  who  know  noth- 
ing of  the  matter.  If  a  young  man,  when  he  goes 
into  the  world,  were'to  make  such  a  speech  as  that,  he 
would  be  pointed  at.  Besides,  whom  must  he  live 
with?  You  don't  suppose  he  is  to  shut  himself  up, 
with  a  few  musty  books,  sleeping  over  the  fire,  under 
pretence  of  study,  all  day  long,  do  you  ?  like  young 
Melmond,  who  knows  no  more  of  the  world  than  either 
of  you  ? 

Cam.  Indeed,  he  seems  to  me  an  amiable  and  modest 
young  man,  though  very  romantic. 

Lion.  O,  I  dare  say  he  does !  I  could  have  laid  any 
wager  of  that.  He's  just  a  girl's  man,  just  the  very 
thing,  all  sentiment,  and  poetry,  and  heroics.  But  we, 
my  little  dear,  we  lads  of  spirit,  hold  all  that  amazingly, 
cheap.  I  assure  you,  I  would  as  soon  be  seen  trying 
on  a  lady's  cap  at  a  glass,  as  poring  over  a  crazy  old 
author.  I  warrant  you  thinlc,  because  one  is  at  the 
University,  one  must  be  a  book- worm  ! 

Lav. 


256  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

L€Li\  Why,  what  else  do  you  go  there  for  but  to'^ 
study  ? 

Lio7u     Every  thing  else  in  the  world,  my  dear. 

Cam,  But  are  there  not  sometimes  young  men  who 
are  scholars,  without  being  book- worms  ?  Is  not  Ed- 
gar Mandlefeert  such  an  one  ? 

Lion,  O  yes,  yes ;  an  odd  thing  of  that  sort  happens 
now  and  then.  Mandlebert  has  spirit  enough  to  carry 
it  off  pretty  well,  without  being  ridiculous;  though  he 
is  as  deeps  for  kis  tuae,  as  e-c?  an  eld  fellow  of  a  col- 
lege. But  then  this  is  no  rule  for  others.  You  must 
not  expect  an  Edgar  Mandlebert  at  every  turn,  my 
dear  innocent  creatures. 

Lav,  But  Edgar  has  had  an  extraordinary  educa* 
tion,  as  well  as  possessing  extraordinary  talents  and 
goodness  ;  you  too,  my  dear  Lionel,  to  fulfil  what  may 
be  expected  from  you,  should  look  back  to  your  father, 
who  was  brought  up  at  the  same  University,  and  is 
now  considered  as  one  of  the  first  men  it  has  produced. 
While  he  was  respected  by  the  learned  for  his  ap- 
plication, he  was  loved  even  by  the  indolent  for  his 
candour  and  kindness  of  heart.  And  though  his  in- 
come, as  you  know,  was  very  small,  he  never  ran  in 
debt ;  and  by  an  exact  but  open  economy,  escaped  all 
imputation  of  meanness. 

Lion,  Yes  ;  but  all  this  is  nothing  to  the  purpose. 
My  father  is  no  more  like  other  men  than  if  he  had 
been  born  in  another  planet ;  and  my  attempting  to 
resemble  him  would  be  as  great  a  joke,  as  if  you  were 
to  dress  up  in  Indiana's  flowers  and  feathers^  and  ex- 
pect people  to  call  you  a  beauty.  I  was  born  a  bit  of 
a  buck  ;  and  have  no  manner  of  natural  taste  for  study, 
and  poring,  and  exj^ounding,  and  black-letter  work.  I 
am  a  light,  airy  spark,  at  your  service,  ladies ;  not 
quite  so  wise  as  I  am  merry.  I  am  one  of  your  ec- 
centric geniuses ;  but  let  that  pass.  My  father,  you 
know,  is  firm  as  a  rock.  He  minds  neither  wind  nor 
weather,  nor  fleerer  nor  sneerer,  nor  joker  nor  jeerer ; 
but  his  firmness  he  has  kept  all  to  himself;  not  a  whit 

of 


227  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

•fitdol  inherit.  Every  wind  that  blows  veers  me 
about,  and  gives  me  a  new  direction.  But  with  all  my 
fether's  firmness  and  knowledge,  I  very  much  doubt 
whether  he  knows  any  thing  of  real  life.  That  is  the 
main  thing,  my  dear  hearts.  But,  come,  Lavinia,  fin- 
ish your  message. 

Lav*  My  mother  says,  the  fraud  you  have  practised, 
.whether  from  wanton  folly  to  give  pain,  or  from  ra- ^ 
'  pacious  discontent  to  get  money,  she  will  leave  with- 
out comment ;  satisfied  that  if  you  have  any  feeling  at 
all,  its  effects  must  bring  remorse  ;  since  it  has  danger- 
ously increased  the  infirmities  of  your  uncle,  driven 
him  to  a  foreign  land,  and  forced  your  mother  to  for- 
sake her  home  and  family  in  his  pursuit,  unless  she  were 
willing  to  see  you  punished  by  the  entire  disinheritance 
with  which  you  are  threatened.     But 

Lion*  O,  no  more !  no  more  !  I  am  yeady  to  shoot 
myself  already!  My  dear,  excellent  mother,  v/hat 
do  I  not  owe  you!  I  had  never  seen,  never  thought 
of  the  business  in  this  solemn  way  before.  I  meant 
nothing  at  first  but  a  silly  joke  ;  and  all  this  mischief 
has  followed  unaccountably.  I  assure  you,  I  had  no 
notion  at  the  beginning  he  would  have  minded  the  let- 
ter 5  and  afterwards.  Jack  Whiston  persuaded  me,  that 
the  money  was  as  good  a-s  my  own,  and  that  it  was 
nothing  but  a  little  cribbing  from  myself.  I  will  never 
trust  him  again  !  I  see  the  whole  now  in  its  true  and 
atrocious  colours.  I  will  devote  all  the  means  in  my 
power  to  make  amends  to  my  dear  incomparable  mother. 
But  proceed,  Lavinia. 

Lav.  But  since  you  are  permitted,  said  my  mother, 
to  return  home,  by  the  forgiving  temper  of  your  father, 
who  is_  himself,  during  the  vacation,  to  be  your  tutor, 
after  he  is  sufficiently  composed  to  admit  you  into  hi^ 
presence,  you  can  repay  his  goodness  only  by  the  m.ost 
intense  application  to  those  studies  which  you  have 
hitherto  neglected,  and  of  which  your  neglect  has  been 
the  cause  of  your  errors.  She  cliarges  you  also  to  ask 
yourself,  upon  what  pret-ext  you  can  justify  the  wast- 
ing 


228  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

ing  of  his  valuable  time,  however  little  you  may  re- 
gard your  own.     Finally 

Lion,  I  never  wasted  his  time  !  1  never  desired  to 
have  any  instruction  in  the  vacations.  'Tis  the  most 
deuced  thing  in  life  to  be  studying  so  incessantly.  The 
waste  of  time  is  all  his  own  atfair,  his  own  choice,  not 
mine.  Go  on,  however,  and  open  the  whole  of  the 
feudgct. 

Lav,  Finally,  she  adjures  you  to  consider,  that  i{ 
you  still  persevere  to  consume  your  time  in  wilful  neg- 
ligence, to  bury  all  thought  in  idle  gaiety,  and  to  act 
without  either  reflection  or  principle,  the  career  of 
faults  which  begins  but  in  unthinking  folly,  will  termi- 
nate in  shame,  in  guilt  and  in  ruin  !  and  though  such 
a  declension  of  all  good  must  involve  your  family  in 
your  affliction,  your  disgrace  will  ultimately  fall  but 
where  it  ought;  since  your  own  want  of  personal  sensi- 
bility will  neither  harden  nor  blind  any  human  being 
beside  yourself.     This  is  all. 

Lion,  And  enough  too.  I  am  a  very  wretch  !  I  be- 
lieve that,  though  1  am  sure  I  can't  tell  how  I  came 
so ;  for  I  never  intend  any  harm,  never  think,  never 
dream  of  hurting  any  mortal !  But  as  to  study,  I  must 
own  to  you,  I  hate  it  most  deucedly.  Any  thing  else  ; 
if  my  mother  had  but  exacted  any  thing  else,  with  what 
joy  I  would  have  shown  my  obedience  !  If  she  had 
ordered  me  to  be  horse-ponded,  I  do  protest  to  you,  I 
would  not  have  demurred. 

Cam,     How  you  always  run  into  the  ridiculous ! 
Lion,     I  v/as  never  so  serious  in  my  life  ;  not  that 
I  should  like  to  be  horse-ponded  in  the  least,  though 
I  would  submit  to  it  by  way  of  punishment,  and  out  of 
duty:  but  then,  when  it  was  done,  it  would  be  over. 
Now  the  deuce  of  study  is,  there  is  no  end  to  it !     And 
it  doer,  so  little   for  one  !  one  can  go  through  life  so 
well  without  it !  there  is  but  here  and  there   an  old 
codger  who  asks  one  a  question  that  can  bring  it  into 
vany  play.     And  then,  a  turn  upon  one's  heel,  or  lod?- 
bdng  at  one's  watch,  &r  woii<2leri»g  at  erne's  sfeort  mem- 
ory, 


THiE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2i9 

x)fy,  or  happening  to  forget  just  that  one  single  passage, 
carries  oft'  the  whole  in  two  minutes,  as  completely  as 
if  one  had  been  working  one's  whole  life  to  get  ready 
for  the  assault.  And  pray  now  tell  me,  how  can  it  be 
worth  one's  best  days,  one's  gayest  hours,  the  very 
flower  of  one's  life,  all  to  be  sacrificed  to  plodding  over 
musty  grammars  and  lexicons,  merely  to  cut  a  figure 
just  for  about  two  minutes,  once  or  twice  in  a  year  ? 

Cam.  Indeed,  Lionel,  you  appear  to  me  a  striking 
example  of  what  a  hard  thing  it  is  to  learn  to  do  well, 
after  one  has  been  accustomed  to  do  evil.  How  volatile ! 
how  totally  void  of  all  stability !  One  miniite  you  ex- 
hibit appearances  of  repentance  and  reforniation,  and 
the  next  minute,  all  fair  prospects  vanish.  How  I  la- 
ment that  you  were  so  early  exposed  to  a  vicious  world, 
before  you  had  gained  sufficient  strength  of  mind  to 
withstand  bad  examples ! 

Lion,  Forbear,  Camilla.  You  hurt  me  too  much. 
You  excite  those  severe  twinges  of  remorse,  which,  ! 
am  obliged  to  own,  I  have  never  been  wholly  free  from, 
since  I  joined  my  merry  companions,  and  began  to  learn 
the  world.  Notwithstanding  my  gaiety,  and  my  appar- 
ent contentment,  I  confess  there  is  something  tvithin, 
"which  constantly  admonishes  me  of  my  errors, and  makes 
iie  feel  unhappy :  so  that,  if  it  were  not  for  fashion''s 
sake,  I  can  truly  say,  I  could  wish  I  were  in  your  re* 
cluse  situation;  here  to  remain,  in  my  once  pleasant 
abode,  and  never  more  mingle  with  the  world. 

Lav,  Dear  brother,  I  cannot  leave  you,  without 
once  more  calling  your  attention  to  your  parents,  your 
family,  and  your  friends.  Think  of  their  present  situ- 
ation; If  you  have  no  regard  for  your  own  character, 
your  present,  or  future  happiness,  I  entreat  you  to  have 
some  pity  for  them.  Let  not  the  tyrant  fashion  bring 
you  into  abject  slavery.  Pardon  me  when  I  tell  you, 
your  pretended  friends  are  your  worst  enemies.  Thejr 
have  led  you  into  a  path  which  will  carry  you  directly 
to  inevitable  ruin,  unless  you  immediately  forsake  it. 
That  knowledge  of  the  world,  of  which  you  so  vainly 
U  boast, 


230  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

boast,  is  infinitely  worse  than  the  ignorance  which  you 
so  much  despise.  Believe  rae,  my  dear  brother,  it  is  a 
knowledge,  which,  by  your  own  confession,  never  has 
produced  you  any  happiness,  nor  will  it  ever  ;  but  will 
guide  you  to  wretchedness  and  misery. 

.Lion.  My  dear  sisters,!  am  convinced.  Your  words 
have  pierced  my  very  soul.  I  am  now  wretched,  and 
I  deserve  to  be  so.  I  am  determined  from  this  moment 
to  begin  my  reformation,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
Heaven,  to  complete  it.  Never  more  will  I  see  my 
vile  companions,  who  have  enticed  me  to  go  such 
lengths  in  wickedness.  What  do  I  not  owe  to  my 
amiable  sisters  for  their  friendly  and  seasonable  advice  ! 
I  will  go  directly  to  my  father,  and,  like  the  prodigal, 
son,  fall  on  my  knees  before  him,  beg  his  forgiveness,, 
and  put  myself  entirely  under  his  direction  and  instruc- 
tion ;  and,  so  long  as  I  live,  I  never  will  offend  him  again. 
Lav,  May  Heaven  assist  jou  in  keeping  your  reso- 
lutions ! 


Extract  from  a  Speech  in  Congress,  April, 
1796,  ON  THE  Subject  of  the  Treaty  with 
Great-Britain. 


IF  any,  against  all  these  proofs  which  have  been 
offered,  should  maintain  that  the  peace  with  the 
Indians  will  be  stable  without  the  Western  Posts,  to 
them  I  will  urge  another  reply.  From  arguments  cal- 
culated to  produce  conviction,  I  will  appeal  directly  to 
the  hearts  of  those  who  hear  me,  and  ask  whether  it  i*. 
not  already  planted  there  ?  I  resort  especially  to  thf 
convictions  of  the  Western  gentlemen,  whether,  sup^ 
posing  no  Posts  and  no  Treaty,  the  settlers  will  remaiij 
in  security  ?  Can  they  take  it  upon  them  to  say,  tha) 
an  Indian  peace,  under  these  circumstances,  will  provj 
firm  ?  No,  Sir,  it  will  not  be  peace,  but  a  sword;  i 
will  be  no  better <han  a  Iwre  to  draw  victims  within  th^ 
reach  of  the  tomahawk. 


THE  COLUlVrBIAN  ORATOR,  231 

On  this  theme,  my  emotions  are  unutterable.  If  I 
?€ould  find  words  for  them,  if  my  powers  bore  any  pro- 
portion to  my  zeal,  I  would  swell  my  voice  to  such  a 
note  of  remonstrance,  it  should  reach  every  log-house 
beyond  the  mountains.  I  would  say  to  the  inhabitants, 
Wake  from  your  false  security.  Your  cruel  dangers, 
your  more  cruel  apprehensions' are  soon  to  be  renewed. 
The  wounds,  yet  unhealed,  are  to  be  torn  open  again. 
In  the  day  time,  your  patli  through  the  woods  will  be 
ambuslicd.  The  darkness  of  micluight  will  glitter  with 
the  blaze  of  your  dwellings.  You  are  a  father ;  the 
blood  of  your  sons  shall  iatlen  your  cornfield.  You 
^re  a  mother ;  the  v/ar-whoop  shall  wake  the  sleep  of 
the  cradle. 

On  this  subject  you  need  not  suspect  any  deception 
on  your  feelings.  It  is  a  spectacle  of  horror  which 
cannot  be  overdrawn.  If  you  have  nature  in  your 
hearts,  they  will  speak  a  language,  compared  with 
which,  all  1  have  said  or  can  say,  will  be  poor  and 
frigid.  Will  it  be  whispered  that  the  treaty  has  made 
me  a  new  champion  for  the  protection  of  the  frontiers  ? 
it  is  known  that  my  voice  as  well  as  vote  have  been 
uniformly  given  in  conformity  with  the  ideas  I  have 
expressed.  Protection  is  the  right  of  the  frontiers ;  it 
IS  our  duty  to  give  it. 

Who  will  accuse  me  of  wandering  out  of  the  subject  ? 
Who  v.ill  say  that  I  exaggerate  the  tendencies  of  our 
iheasures  ?  Will  any  one  answer  by  a  sneer,  that  all  this 
is  idle  preaching  ?  Will  any  one  deny  that  we  are 
bound,  and  I  would  hope  to  good  purpose,  by  the  most 
solemn  sanctions  of  duty  for  the  vote  we  give  ?  Are 
despots  alone  to  be  reproached  for  unfeeling  indiirerence 
to  the  tears  and  blood  of  their  subjects  ?  Are  republi- 
cans unresponsible  ?  Have  the  principles  on  which  you 
ground  the  reproach  upon  cabinets  and  kings  no  prac- 
tical influence,  no  binding  force  ?  Are  they  merely 
themes  of  idle  declamation,  introduced  to  decorate  the 
morality  of  a  newspaper  essay,  or  to  furnish  pretty  top- 
ips  of  harangue  from  the  windows  of  that  State-house  ? 

1  trust 


232  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

I  trust  it  is  neither  too  presumptuous  nor  tod  late  to^ 

ask,  Can  you  put  the  dearest  interest  of  society  at  risk, 
without  guilt,  and  without  remorse  ? 

By  rejecting  the  posts,  we  light  the  savage  fires; 
we  bind  the  victims.  This  day  we  undertake  to  ren- 
der account  to  the  widows  and  orphans  whom  our  de- 
cision will  make,  to  the  wretches  that  wdll  be  roasted 
at  the  stake,  to  our  country,  and  1  do  not  deem  it  too 
serious  to  say,  to  conscience,  and  to  God.  We  are  an- 
swerable  ;  and  if  duty  be  any  thing  more  than  a  word 
of  imposture;  if  conscience  be  not  a  bugbear,  we  are 
preparing  to  make  ourselves  as  wretched  as  our  country. 

There  is  no  mistake  in  this  case  ;  there  can  be  none. 
Experience  has  already  been  the  prophet  of  events, 
and  the  cries  of  our  future  victims  have  already  reached 
us.  The  Western  inhabitants  are  not  a  silent  and  un- 
complaining sacrifice.  The  voice  of  hunjanity  issues 
from  the  shade  of  the  wilderness.  It  exclaims,  that 
while  one  hand  is  held  up  to  reject  this  treaty,  the 
other  grasps  a  tomahawk.  It  summons  our  imagma- 
tion  to  the  scenes  that  will  open.  It  is  no  great  effort 
of  the  imagination  to  conceive  that  events  so  near  are 
already  begun.  I  can  fancy  that  I  listen  to  the  yells 
of  savage  vengeance  and  the  shrieks  of  torture.  Al- 
ready they  seem  to  sigh  in  the  western  wind ;  already 
they  mingle  with  every  echo  from  the  mountains.        ) 

Let  me  cheer  the  mind,  weary,  no  doubt,  and  ready 
to  despond  on   this  prospect,  by  presenting  another, 
which  is  yet  in  our  power  to  realize.     Is  it  possible  for 
a  real  American  to  look  at  the  prosperity  of  this  coun- 
try without  some  desire  for  its  continuance,  without 
some  respect  for  the  measures,  which,  many  ^^'>^^A^y» 
produced,  and  all  will  confess,  have  preserved  it  ?  WiU 
he  not  feel  some  dread  that  a  change  of  system  will  tq^ 
verse  the  scene  ?     The  well-grounded  frars  of  our  citi 
zens,  in  1794,  were  removed  by  the  treaty,  but  are  no 
forgotten.     Then  they  deemed  ^var  nearly  inevitable 
and  would  not  this  adjustment  have  been  considered  a 
t-hat  day  as  a  happy  escape  from  the  calamity? 


I  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  233 

/  The  great  interest  and  the  general  desire  of  our  peo- 
ple was  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  neutrality.  This 
instrument,  however  misrepresented,  afTords  America 
that  inestimable  security.  The  causes  of  our  disputes 
are  either  cut  up  by  the  roots,  or  referred  to  a  new 
negociation,  after  the  end  of  the  European  war.  This 
was  gaining  every  thing,  because  it  confirmed  our  neu- 
trality, by  which  our  citizens  are  gaining  every  thing. 
This  alone  would  justify  the  engagements  of  the  gov- 
ernment. For,  when  the  fiery  vapours  of  the  war  low- 
ered in  the  skirts  of  our  horizon,  all  our  wishes  were 
concentered  in  this  one,  that  we  might  escape  the  des- 
olation of  the  storm.  This  treaty,  like  a  rainbow  on, 
the  edge  of  the  cloud,  marked  to  our  eyes  the  space 
where  it  was  raging,  and  afforded  at  the  same  time  the 
sure  prognostic  of  fair  weather.  If  we  reject  it,  the 
vivid  colours  will  grow  pale  ;  it  will  be  a  baleful  meteor 
portending  tempest  and  war. 

Let  us  not  hesitate  then  to  agree  to  the  appropriation 
to  carry  it  into  faithful  execution.  Thus  we  shall  save 
the  faith  of  our  nation,  secure  its  peace,  and  diffuse  ftie 
spirit  of  confidence  and  enterprise  that  will  augment 
its  prosperity.  The  progress  of  wealth  and  improve- 
ment is  wonderful,  and,  some  will  think,  too  rapid. 
The  field  for  exertion  is  fruitful  and  vast ;  and  if  peace 
and  good  government  should  be  preserved,  the  acquisi- 
tions of  our  citizens  are  not  so  pleasing  as  the  proofs 
of  their  industry,  -;s  the  instruments  of  their  future  suc- 
cess. The  rewards  of  exertion  go  to  augment  its  power. 
Profit  is  every  hour  becoming  capital.  The  vast  crop 
of  our  neutrality  is  all  seed  wheat,  and  is  sown  again, 
to  swell,  almost  beyond  calculation,  the  future  harvest^ 
of  prosperity.  And  in  this  progress,  what  seems  to  be 
fiction  is  found  to  fall  short  of  experience. 

U  2  Extract 


234  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Extract  from  an  Oration,  pronounced  at  Wor- 
cester, (Mass.)  July  4,  1796;  by  Francis 
Blake,  Esq. 


IN  viewing  the  causes  which  led  to  the  event  of  this 
joyous  anniversary ;  in  tracing  the  effects  which 
have  resulted  to  America  ;  in  searching  for  the  princi- 
ples which  impelled  to  the  contest ;  in  recalling  the 
feelings  which  supported  us  in  the  struggle,  it  cannot 
fail  to  occur  to  us  that  the  causes  have  not  been  con- 
fined to  the  limits  of  our  continent ;  that  the  effects 
have  extended  far  beyond  the  boundaries  of  our  nation  ; 
that  the  glorious  example,  with  electrical  rapidity,  has 
flashed  across  the  Atlantic  ;  that,  guided  by  the  same 
principles,  conducted  by  the  same  feelings,  the  people, 
who  so  gallantly  fought  and  bled  for  the  security  of 
our. lives  and  our  liberties,  are  now  fighting  and  bleed- 
ing in  defence  of  their  own. 

On  this  day,  therefore,  religiously  devoted  to  the 
consecration  of  our  independence,  it  becomes  us,  as 
the  votaries  of  freedom,  as  friends  to  the  rights  of  man, 
and  bound  to  support  them  whenever  invaded,  to  turn' 
our  attention,  with  a  grateful  enthusiasm,  to  the  scenes 
of  their  sufferings,  their  revolt,  and  their  victories. 
While  exulting  in  the  fuJI  enjoyment  of  peace  and  tran- 
fuillity,  shall  not  a  tear  for  the  unexampled  distresses 
of  this  magnanimous  nation,  check,  for  a  moment,  the 
emotions  of  our  joy  ? 
"  They  have  sworn  that  they  will  live  FREE  or  DIE  ! 
They  have  solemnly  sworn,  that  the  sword,  which  has 
been  drawn  in  defence  of  their  country,  shall  never  be 
returned  to  its  scabbard,  till  it  has  secured  to  them  vic- 
tory and  freedom.  Let  us  then  breathe  forth  a  fervent 
ejaculation  to  Heaven,  that  their  vows  may  be  remem- 
bered ;  that  the  cause  of  our  former  allies  may  not  be 

descrteil', 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  231^ 

deserted,  till  they  have  scourged  their  invaders,  till 
tliey  have  driven  them  back  in  confusion  to  the  regions 
of  terror,  from  whence  they  emerged. 

While  we  remember  with  horror  the  continued  effu- 
sion of  blood,  which  darkened  the  morning  of  their 
revolution,  let  us  not  forget  that  their  vengeance  was 
roused  by  the  champions  of  despotism,  whose  lives  have 
since  justly  atoned  for  the  crimes  tliey  committed^ 
While  we  lament  the  sanguinary  scenes,  which  clouded 
its  progress,  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  they  aros<?  from 
the  bloody  manifesto  of  a  band  of  tyrants,  combined 
for  the  hellish  purpose  of  again  rivetting  the  chains 
they  had  broken. 

The  league  of  Pilnitz,  like  the  league  of  Satan  and 
his  angels,  revolting  against  the  Majesty  of  heaven, 
was  professedly  fabricated,  to  arrest  forever  the  pro- 
gress of  freedom;  to  usurp  the  dominion  of  France, 
and  divide  the  spoil  among  this  band  of  royal  plunder- 
ers. Have  we  not  heard,  that  the  noble,  the  generous, 
the  grateful  monarch  of  the  forest,  that  fawned  at  the 
feet  of  Androcles,  when  remembering  his  former  friend- 
ship, will  ever  turn  with  fury  on  his  pursuers  ;  and 
when  robbed  of  his  whelps,  rests  not  till  his  fangs  are 
crimsoned  in  the  blood  of  the  aggressor  ? 

Shall  then  the  fervour  of  our  friendship  be  abated,  by 
remembering  the  transitory  frenzy  of  a  people  distract- 
ed wit^  the  enthusiasm  of  freedom,  and  irritated  to 
madness  by  the  dreadful  prospect  of  losing  what  Uiey 
had  enjoyed  but  for  a  moment  ?  Let  it  nevc^r  be  said 
of  us,  as  of  Rome  and  of  Athens,  that  ingratitude  is  the 
common  vice  of  republics.  Was  it  to  the  crowned 
monarch,  nam^  Louis  the  Sixteenth,  or  to  the  people 
of  France,  that  we  were  indebted,  for  the  blood  and 
treasure  that  were  so  profusely  lavished  in  our  cause  ? 
Shall  then  their  services  be  forgotten,  in  the  remem- 
brance of  their  momentary  excesses  ?  or  shall,  we  re- 
fuse our  most  cordial  concurrence  in  the  feelings  v/hich 
impel  them  to  the  present  contest  v/ith  the  rulHan  po-. 
rentates  of  Europe  ? 

Can 


236  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Can  we  doubt,  for  a  moment,  which  is  the  cause  we " 
are  bound  to  support  with  our  sanction,  when  we  behold 
the  winds  and  the  seas,  those  dreadful  ministers  of  Hea- 
ven's vengeance,  commissioned  to  advance  their  pro- 
gress, and  deluge  their  enemies  ?  When  we  behold 
Ariel,  with  his  attendant  spirits,  gently  hovering  over 
their  navies,  and  wafting  them  to  victory  on  the  bosom 
of  the  ocean ;  while  Neptune  and  Boreas  have  com- 
bined against  the  league  of  their  oppressors,  to  over- 
whelm in  the  deep  these  deluded  followers  of  Pharaoh ! 
Have  we  not  seen  them  fed,  as  with  manna  from  hea- 
ven; the  waters  divided,  and  the  walls  of  Jericho  fall- 
ing before  them,  while  the  fair  prospect  of  liberty  has 
led  them  in  triumph  through  the  wilderness,  as  a  cloud 
by  day,  and  a  pillar  of  fire  by  night  ? 

AMERICANS !  Let  us  join  in  a  fervent  supplica- 
tion, that  the  sacred  charters  of  humanity,  which  we 
have  once  sealed  with  our  blood,  may  be  forever  pre- 
served from  the  deadly  grasp  of  tyrants. 

FRENCHMEN!  Be  firm;  be  undaunted  in  the 
struggle  you  have  thus  miraculously  supported.  Evince 
to  the  world,  now  gazing  with  admiration  at  your  ex- 
ploits in  the  field  of  battle,  that  you  have  virtue  equal 
to  your  courage  ;  that  you  are  friends  to  the  friends  of 
humanity;  that  your  arms  are  nerved  only  against  the 
enemies  of  man.  Let  not  the  sacred  name  of  LIBER- 
TY be  polluted  by  the  frenzy  of  licentious  pi 'prions; 
but  may  your  present  glorious  constitution,  while  it 
protects  your  freedom  from  the  unhallowed  ravages  of 
tyranny,  remain  an  unshakea  bulwark  against  the  de- 
structive fury  of  faction. 

TYRANTS !  Turn  from  the  impious  t\^ork  of  blood 
in  which  your  hands  are  imbrued,  and  tremble  at  the 
desperation  of  your  revoking  subjects  !  repent  in  sack- 
cloth and  ashes.  For  behold,  ye,  who  have  been  ex- 
ahed  up  to  heaven,  shall,  ere  long,  be  cast  down  to  hell! 
The  final  period  of  your  crimes  is  rapidly  approaching. 
The  grand  POLITICAL  MILLENNIUM  is  at  hand ; 

when 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  257 

when  tyranny  shall  be  buried  in  ruins  ;  when  all  na- 
tions sliall  be  united  in  ONE  MIGHTY  REPUBLIC  ! 
when  the  four  angels,  that  stand  on  the  four  corners 
of  the  globe,  shall,  with  one  accord,  lift  up  their  voices 
to  heaven ;  proclaiming  PEACE  ON  EARTPI,  AND 
GOOD  WILL  TO  ALL  MEN. 


General  DescriptjOiV  of  America. 

Extract    from    a    Poem    spoken   at    Dartmouth 

College,  on  Commencement  Day,  1795. 

FROM  Patagonia's  snow-invested  wilds. 
To  Darien,  w^here  constant  verdure  smiles, 
The  Andes  meet  the  morning's  earliest  ray,    ' 
O'erlook  the  clouds  and  check  the  flood  of  Day* 
In  copious  torrents  from  their  eastern  side, 
Fk)w  the  vast  streams  of  Amazonia's  tide,  ' 

Roll  on  majestic  through  her  boundless  plain,. 
And  swell  the  surface  of  the  neighbouring  main* 
Nor  Plata  less  a  broad,  deep  channel  fills  ; 
Danube  and  Wolga  by  his  side  were  rills. 
But  leave,  my  muse,  this  wide-exten  Jed  clime, 
By  nature  stamp'd  with  all^slie  owns  sublime.  ' 

Here  she  has  wrought  upon  her  largest  plan. 
But  mourns  in  solitude  the  wrongs  of  man. 
Here  Gautemozin  writh'd  in  flames  of  fire. 
And  slaughter'd  millions  round  their  prince  expire. 
Rise,  sleeping  vengeance  !  vindicate  their  cause  ; 
And  thou,  stern  justice,  execute  thy  law\s : 
Ye  Afldes,  strike  Hesperian  fraud  with  dread, 
Burst  thy  volcanoes  on  tlie  guilty  head  ! 

Where  Cancer's  sun  pours  down  his  ardent  blaz^>. 
Drawls  the  Monsoons,  and  Icngliiens  out  his  days. 
The  spacious  gulf  of  Mcxic'  rolFs  his  tide, 
And  thronging  fleets  of  various  nations  ride. 
The  fertile  isles  their  rich  luxuriance  pour, 
Aad  western  dainties  crown  the  eastern  shore. 

But 


^38  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

But  weep,  humanity,  the  black  disgrace, 
And  spread  thy  blushes  o'er  oppression's  face! 
Ye  sons  of  mirth,  your  bowls,  your  richest  food., 
IS  mingled  with  fraternal  tears  and  blood. 
Still  groans  the  slave  beneath  his  master's  rod, 
But  nature,  wrong'd,  appeals  to  nature's  GOD. 
The  sun  frowns  angry  at  th'  inhuman,  sight ; 
The  stars,  offended,  redden  in  the  night : 
fn  western  skies,  drear  horror  gathers  round, 
And  waking  vengeance  murmurs  under  ground ; 
O'er  all  the  gulph  the  dark'nirig  vapours  rise, 
And  the  black  clouds  sail  av/ful  round  the  skies. 
From  heaven  to  earth  swift  thunderbolts  ar^  huri'd, 
And  storm's  dread  demon  shakes  th'  astonish'd  World. 
The  rich  plantation  lies  a  barren  waste^ 
And  all  the  works  of  slavery  are  defac'd. 
Ye  tyrants,  own  the  devastation  just ; 
'Tis  for  your  wrongs  the  fertile  earth  is  curs'd. 
Columbia's  States  unfold  their  milder  scenes, 
And  freedom's  realms  afford  more  pleasing  themes. 
From  Georgia's  plains,  to  Hudson's  highest  source.^ 
The  northern  Andes  range  their  varied  course  : 
Rank  above  rank,  they  swell  their  growing  size> 
Rear  their  blue  arches,  and  invade  the  skies. 
Here  spreads  a  forest ;  there  a  city  shines  : 
Here  swell  ftie  hills,   and  there  a  vale  declines. 
Here,  through  the  meads,  meand'ring  rivers  run  j 
There  placid  lakes  reflect  the  full  orb'd  sun. 
From  mountain  sides  perennial  fountains  flow, 
And  streams  majestic  bead  their  course  below. 
Here  rise  the  groves;  there  opes  the  hHUe  lawn, 
Fresh  fragrance  breathes,  and  Ceres  wn/es  her  corn- 
Along  the  east,  where  the  prouJ  billows  roar. 
Capacious  harbours  grace  the  winding  shore  : 
The  nation's  splendour  and  ihr  merchant's  pride 
VVafts  with  each  gale,  and  floats  with  ev'ry  tide. 
From  Iroquois  to  vast  Superiour's  strand, 
Spread  the  wide  lakes  and  insulate  the  land. 

He^e 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     239 


gaie. 
side,) 

■  I 


Here  growing  commerce  shall  unfold  her  sail, 
Load  the  rich  bark,  and  woo  the  inland  gale. 
Far  to  the  west,  where  savage  hordes  reside. 
Smooth  Mississippi  rolls  his  copious  tidC; 
And  fair  Ohio  weds  his  silver  side. 

Hail,  happy  States  !  thine  is  the  blissful  seat, 
Where  nature's  gifts  and  art's  improvements  meet* 
Thy  temp'rate  air  breathes  health  ;  thy  fertile  soil 
In  copious  plenty  pays  the  labourer's  toil. 
Ask  net  for  mountains  of  Peruvian  ore, 
Nor  court  the  dust  that  shines  on  Afric's  shore. 
The  plough  explores  for  thee  the  richest  mine ; 
Than  autumn's  fruit,  no  goodlier  ore  can  shine. 
O'er  the  wide  plain  and  through  the  opening  glade. 
Flows  the  canal  obsequious  to  the  spade. 
Commerce  to  wealth  and  knowledge  turns  the  key, 
Floats  o'er  the  land  and  sails  to  every  sea. 
Thrice  happy  art !  be  thy  white  sail  unfuri'd, 
Not  to  corrupt,  but  socialize  the  world. 

The  muse  prophetic  views  the  coming  day, 
When  federal  laws  beyond  the  line  shall  sway. 
Where  Spanish  indolence  inactive  lies. 
And  ev'ry  art  and  ev'ry  virtue  dies  ; 
Where  pride  and  avarice  their  empire  holdj 
Ignobly  great,  and  poor  amid  their  gold, 
Columbia's  genius  shall  the  mind  inspire. 
And  fill  each  breast  with~patriotic  fire. 
Nor  east  nor  western  oceans  shall  confine 
The  generous  flame  that  dignifies  the  mind  ; 
O'er  all  the  earth  shall  freedom's  banner  wave, 
The  tyrant  blast,  and  liberate  the  slave. 
Plenty  and  peace  shall  spread  from  pole  to  pole, 
Till  earth's  grand  family  possess  one  soul. 

Dialogue 


240  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Dialogue  between  a  Master  and  Slave. 

■  '  •  •      •  » 

M  1\rOWj  villain  !  what  have  you  to  say  for 

Master,  n    ^,^.^  second  attempt   to   run    a\vay  ?   Is 
there  any  punishment  that  you  do  not  deserve  ? 

Slave,  I  well  know  that  nothing  I  can  say  will 
avail.     I  submit  to  my  fate. 

Mast.  But  are  you  not  a  base  fellow,  a  hardened 
and  ungrateful  rascal  ? 

Slave.  I  am  a  slave.     That  is  answer* enough. 

Mast.  I  am  not  content  with  that  answer.  1 
thought  I  discerned  in  you  some  tokens  of  a  mind  su- 
periour  to  your  condition.  I  treated  you  accordingly. 
You  have  been  comfortably  fed  and  lodged,  not  over- 
worked, and  attended  with  the  most  humane  care  when 
you  were  sick.     And  is  this  the  return  ? 

Slave.  Since  you  condescend  to  talk  with  me,  as 
Bian  to  man,  I  will  reply.  What  have  you  done,  what 
can  you  do  for  me,  that  will  compensate  for  the  liberty 
which  you  have  taken  away  ? 

Mast.  I  did  not  take  it  away*  You  were  a  slave 
when  I  fairly  purchased  you» 

Slave.  Did  I  give  my  consent  to  the  purchase  ? 

Mast.  You  had  no  cotisent  to  give.  You  had  al- 
ready lost  the  right  of  disposing  of  yourself. 

S^ave.  I  had  lost  the  power,  but  how  the  right  ?  I 
was  treacherously  kidnapped  in  my  own  country,  when 
following  an  honest  occupation.  I  was  put  in  chains, 
sold  to  one  of  your  countrymen,  carried  by  force  on 
board  his  ship,  brought  hither,  and  exposed  to  sale  like 
a  beast  in  the  market,  where  you  bought  me.  What 
step  in  all  this  progress  of  violence  and  injustice  can 
give  a  right  F  Was  it  in  the  villain  who  stole  me,  in 
the  slave-merchant  who  tempted  him  to  do  so,  or  in 
you  who  encouraged  the  slave-merchant  to  bring  his 
cargo  of  human  cattle  to  cultivate  your  lands  ? 

MasU 


miE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  241 

Mast.  It  is  in  the  order  of  Providence  that  one  man 
should  become  subservient  to  another.  It  ever  has 
bee.:  so,  and  ever  v.^ill  be.  1  found  the  custom,  and 
did  iK)t  ir.ake  it. 

Slavt.  You  cannot  but  be  FCiksible,  that  the  robber 
who  puts  a  pistol  to  your  breast  may  make  just,  the  same 
plea.  Providence  c;ives  Inm  a  power  over  your  life  and 
propertv;  it  gave  my  enemies  a  power  over  my  liberty. 
But  it  has  alf;o  given  me  legs  to  escape  with  ;  and  what 
should  prevent  me  from  using  them  ?  Nay,  what  should 
restrain  me  from  retaliating  the  wrongs  I  have  sulTered, 
if  a  favourable  occasion  should  offer  ? 

Mast,  Gratitude  !  I  repeat,  gratitude  !  Kave  T  not 
endeavoured  ever  since  I  possessed  you  to  alleviate  your 
misfortunes  by  kind  treatment ;  and  does  that  confer 
no  obligation  ?  Consider  how  much  worse  your  condi- 
tion might  have  been  under  another  m.astcr. 

Slave.  You  have  done  nothing  for  me  more  than 
for  your  working  cattle.  Are  they  not  well  fed  and 
tended  ?  do  you  w^ork  them  harder  than  your  slaves  ? 
is  not  the  rule  of  treating  both  designed  only  for  your 
own  advantage  ?  You  treat  both  your  men  and  beast 
slaves  better  than  some  of  your  neighbours,  because  you 
are  more  prudent  and  wealthy  than  they. 

Mast,  You  might  add,  more  humane  too. 

Slave,  Humane!  Does  it  desen^e  that  appellation 
to  keep  your  fellow-men  in  forced  i,ubjection,  deprived 
of  all  exercise  of  their  free  will,  liable  to  all  the  inju- 
ries that  your  own  caprice,  or  the  brutality  of  your 
overseers,  may  heap  on  them,  and  devoted,  soul  and 
body,  only  to  your  pleasure  and  emolument?  Can 
gratitude  take  place  between  creatures  in  such  a  state, 
and  the  tyrant  wh©  holds  them  in  it  ?  Look  at  these 
limbs  ;  are  they  not  those  of  a  man  ?  Think  that  1 
have  the  spirit  of  a  man  too. 

Mast,  But  it  was  my  intention  not  only  to  make 
your  life  tolerably  comfortable  at  present,  but  to  pro- 
vide for  you  in  your  old  age. 

W  Slave. 


242  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Slave,  Alas!  is  a  life  like  mine,  torn  from  counay, 
friends,  and  all  I  held  dear,  and  compelled  to  toil  un- 
der the  bm'ning  sun  for  a  master,  worth  thinking  about 
for  old  age  ?  No  ;  the  sooner  it  ends,  the  sooner  1  shall 
obtain  that  relief  for  which  my  soul  pants. 

Mast,  Is  it  impossible,  then,  to  hold  you  by  aay  ties 
but  those  of  constraint  and  severity  ? 

Slave,  It  is  impossible  to  make  one,  who  has  felt  the 
value  of  freedom,  acquiesce  in  being  a  slave. 

Mast,  Suppose  I  were  to  restore  you  to  your  liberty, 
would  you  reckon  that  a  favour  ? 

Slave,    The  greatest ;  for  although  it    would  only 
be  undoing  a  wrong,  I  know  too  well  how  few  among 
mankind  are  capable  of  sacrificing  interest  to  justice 
not  to  prize  the  exertion  when  it  is  made. 
J    Mast,  I  do  it,  then  ;  be  free. 

Slave,  Now  I  am  indeed  your  servant,  though  not 
your  slave.  And  as  the  first  return  I  can  make  for 
your  kindness,  I  will  tell  you  freely  the  condition  in 
which  you  live.  You  ai*e  surrounded  with  implacable 
foes,  who  long  for  a  safe  opportunity  to  revenge  upon 
you  and  the  other  planters  all  the  miseries  they  have 
endured.  The  more  generous  their  natures,  the  more 
indignant  they  feel  against  that  cruel  injustice  which 
has  dragged  them  hither,  and  doomed  them  to  perpet- 
ual servitude.  You  can  rely  on  no  kindness  on  your 
part,  to  soften  the  obduracy  of  their  resentment.  Your 
have  reduced  them  to  the  state  of  brute  beasts  ;  and  if 
they  have  not  the  stupidity  of  beasts  of  burden ,  they 
must  have  the  ferocity  of  beasts  of  prey.  Superior  force 
alone  can  give  you  security.  As  soon  as  that  fails, 
you  are  at  the  mercy  of  the  merciless.  Such  is  the 
social  bond  between  master  and  slave  ! 

Part 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  243 


Part    of    Mr.    O'Connor's    Speech    in   the   Irish 
Ilousri  OF  Commons,  in  Favour  of  the  Bill  for 

EMANCIPATING    THE    RoMAN    CaTHOLICS,    1795. 


IF  I  were  to  judiije  from  the  dead  silence  with  whicK 
my  speech  has  been  received,  I  should  suspect  that 
what  J  have  said  was  not  very  palatable  to  some  men 
in  this  House.  But  I  have  not  risked  connexions,  en- 
deared to  me  by  every  tie  of  blood  and  friendship,  to 
support  one  set  of  men  in  preference  to  another.  1 
have  hazarded  too  much,  by  the  part  I  have  taken,  to 
allow  the  breath  of  calumny  to  taint  the  obji-'cts  I  have 
had  in  view.  Immutable  principles,  on  which  the 
happiness  and  liberty  of  my  countrymen  depend,  con- 
vey to^my  mind  the  only  substantial  boon  for  which 
great  sacrifices  should  be  made. 

And  I  here  avow  myself  the  zealous  and  earnest 
advocate  for  the  most  unqualified  emancipation  of  my 
catholic  countrymen  ;  in  the  hope  and  conviction,  that 
the  monopoly  of  the  rights  and  liberties  of  my  countr}', 
which  has  hitherto  efiectually  withstood  the  eftbrts  of 
a  part  of  the  people,  must  yield  to  the  unanimous  will, 
to  the  decided  interest,  and  to  the  general  effort  of  a 
whole  united  people.  It  is  from  this  conviction,  and 
it  is  for  that  transcendently  important  object,  that, 
while  the  noble  Lord  and  the  Right  Honorable  Secre- 
tary, are  ofiering  to  risk  their  lives  and  fortunes  in  sup- 
port of  a  system  that  militates  against  the  liberty  of  my 
countrymen,  I  will  risk  every  thing  dear  to  me  on  earth. 

It  is  for  this  great  object  I  have,  1  fear,  more  than 
risked  connexions  dearer  to  m^  than  life  itself.  But 
he  must  be  a  spiritless  man,  and  this  a  spiritless  nation, 
not  to  resent  the  baseness  ofaBritish  Minister,  who  has 
raised  our  hopes  in  order  to  seduce  a  rival  to  share  with 
him  the  disgrace  of  this  accursed  political  crusade,  a,nd 
^''  ist  them  afterwards,  that  he  may  degrade  a  competitor 

t^ 


244  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

to  the  station  of  a  dependent.  And,  that  Ke  may  de- 
stroy friendship  which  his  Hature  never  knew,  he  has 
sported  with  the  feelings  of  a  whole  nation.  Raising 
the  cup  with  one  hand  to  the  parched  lip  of  expectancy, 
he  has  dashed  it  to  the  earth  with  the  other,  in  all  the 
wantonness  of  insult,  and  with  all  the  aggravation  of 
contempt. 

Does  he  imagine,  that  the  people  of  this  country,^ 
after  he  has  tantalized  them  with  the  cheering  hope  of 
present  alleviation,  and  of  futnre  prosperity,  will  tamely 
bear  to  be  forced  to  a  rc-endurance  of  their  former 
sufferings,  and  to  a  re-appointment  of  their  former 
spoilers?  Does  he,  from  confidence  of  long  success  ia 
debauching  the  human  mind,  exact  from  you,  calling 
yourselves  the  representatives  of  the  people  of  Ireland, 
to  reject  a  bill,  which  has  received  the  unanimous  con- 
sent of  your  constituents  ?  or  does  he  mean  to  puzzle 
the  versatile  disposition  of  this  House,  on  which  he  has 
made  so  many  successful  experiments  already,  by  dis^ 
tracting  you  between  obedience  to  his  impci-ious  man- 
dates, and  obedience  to  the  will  of  the  people  you 
should  represent  ? 

Or  does  he  flatter  himself,  that  he  shall  now  succeed, 
because  he  has  succeeded  in  betraying  his  own  country, 
into  exchanging  that  peace,  by  which  she  might  have 
retrieved  her  shattered  finances,  for  a  war,  in  which  he 
has  squandered  twenty  times  a  greater  treasure,  in  the 
course  of  two  years,  than  with  all  his  famed  economy, 
he  had  been  able  to  save,  in  the  course  often?  for  a 
war  in  which  the  prime  youth  of  the  world  have  beeaa 
offered  up,  victims  to  his  ambition  and  his  schemes,  asf 
boundless  and  presumptuous,  as  ill-concerted  and  ill- 
combined  ;  for  a  war  in  which  the  plains  of  every  nation 
in  Europe  have  been  crimsoned  with  oceans  of  blood  ; 
for  a  war  in  which  his  country  has  reaped  nolhing  but 
disgi-ace,  and  which  must  ultimately  prove  her  ruin  ? 

Does  he  flatter  himself,  that  he  shall  be  enabled, 
Satan  like,  to  end  his  political  career  by  involving  th( 
whole  empire  in  a  civil-war,  from  which  nothing  car 

acci*ue 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     245 

accrue,  but  a  doleful  and  barren  conquest  to  the  victor  ? 
I  trust  the  people  of  England  are  too  wise  and  too  just 
to  attempt  to  force  measures  upon  us  wliich  they  woul4 
themselves  i eject  with  disdain.  1  trust  they  have  not 
themselves  so  soon  forgotten  the  lesson  they  so  recently 
learned  from  America,  which  should  serve  as  a  lasting 
examplelo  nations,  against  employing  force  to  subdue 
the  spirit  of  a  people,  determined  to  be  free ! 

But  if  they  should  be  so  weak,  or  so  wicked,  as  to 
suffer  themselves  to  be  seduced  by  a  man,  to  whos6 
soul,  duplicity  and  finesse  arc  as  congenial,  as  ingenuous- 
ness and  fair  dealing  is  a  stranger',  to  become  the  instru- 
ments of  supporting  a  few  odious  public  characters  in 
power  and  rapacity,  against  the  interest  and  against  the 
sense  of  a  whole  people;  if  we  are  to  be  dragooned 
into  measures  against  our  will,  by  a  nation  that  would 
lose  her  last  life,  and  expend  her  last  guinea,  in  resent- 
ing a  similar  insult,  if  oifered  to  herself,  I  trust  she  will 
find  in  the  people  of  this  country  a  spirit  in  no  wise  in- 
ferior to  her  own. 

You  are  at  this  moment  at  the  most  awful  period  of 
your  lives.  The  Minister  of  England  has  committed 
you  with  your  country  ;  and  on  this  night  your  adop- 
tion or  rejection  of  this  bill,  must  determine,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Irish  nation,  wliich  you  represent,  the  Min- 
ister of  England,  or  the  people  of  Ireland!  And,  al- 
though you  are  convinced,  you  do  not  represent  the 
people  of  Ireland  ;  although  you  are  convinced,  every 
man  of  you,  that  you  are  self-created,  it  docs  not  alter 
the  natuj-^  of  the  contest ;  it  is  still  a  contest  between 
the  Minister  of  England  and  the  people  of  Ireland ; 
and  the  weakness  of  your  title  should  only  make  you 
the  more  circumspect  in  the  exercise  of  your  power. 

Fortunately,  the  views  of  the  British  Minister  have 
been  detected  ;  fortunately,  the  people  of  this  country 
see  him  in  his  true  colours.  Like  the  desperate  gamester, 
who  has  lost  his  a'l,  in  the  wildest  schemes  of  aggran- 
dizement, he  looks  round  for  some  dupe  to  supply  him 
with  the  further  means  of  future  projects  ;  and  in  the 
W  2  -  •       .   crafty 


246  THE  COLUMBIAxN  ORATOR. 

crafty  subtleness  of  his  soul,  ho  fondly  imagines,  he  has 
found  that  easy  dupe  in  the  credulity  of  the  Irish  nation. 
After  he  has  exhausted  his  own  coimtry  in  a  crusade 
against  that  phantom,  political  o{)inion,  he  flatters  him- 
self he  shall  be  enabled  to  resuscitate  her  at  the  ex- 
pense of  yours. 

As  you  value  the  peace  and  happiness  of  your  coun-  f 
try ;  as  you  value  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  soil; 
that  has  given  you  birth ;  and  if  you  are  not  lost  to 
every  sense  of  feelin*  for  your  own  consequence  and 
importance  as  men,  I  call  on  you  this  night  to  make 
your  stand.  I  call  on  you  to  rally  round  the  independ-* 
cnce  of  your  country,  w4iose  existence  has  been  so 
artfully  assailed.  Believe  me,  the  British  Minister  will 
leave  you  in  the  lurch,  when  he  sees  that  the  people 
of  this  nation  are  too  much  in  earnest  to  be  tricked  out 
of  their  rights,  or  the  independence  of  their  country. 

What  a  display  of  legislation  have  we  had  on  this 
night  ?  Artificers  who  neither  know  the  foundation  on 
which  they  work,  the  instinimcnts  they  ought  to  use, 
nor  the  materials  required !  Is  it  on  the  narrov,'  basis 
of  monopoly  and  exclusion  you  would  erect  a  temple 
to  the  growing  liberty  of  your  country  ?  If  you  ^vill 
legislate  ;  know,  that  on  the  broad  basis  of  immutable 
justice  only,  you  can  rane  a  lasting,  beauteous  temple  to 
the  liberty  of  your  island ;  whose  ample  base  shall  lodge, 
and  whose  roof  shall  shelter  her  united  family  from  the 
rankling  inclemency  of  rejection  and  exclusion.  Know, 
that  reason  is  that  silken  thread  by  which  the  lawgiver 
leads  his  people;  and  above  all,  know,  ♦it  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  temper  of  the  public  mind,  consists 
the  skill  and  the  wisdom  of  the  legislator. 

Do  not  imagine  that  the  minds  of  your  countrymen 
have  been  stationary,  while  that  of  all  Europe  has  been 
rapidly  progressive  ;  for  you  must  be  blind  not  to  per- 
ceive, that  the  whole  European  mind  has  undergone  a 
revolution,  neither  confined  to  this  nor  to  that  country ; 
but  as  general  as  the  great  causes  which  have  given  it 
"kirth,  and  still  continue  to  feed  its  growth.     In  vain  do 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  247 

these  men,  who  subsist  but  on  the  abuses  of  the  govern- 
ment under  which  they  live,  flatter  themselves,  that 
what  we  have  seen  these  last  six  years  is  but  the  fever 
of  the  moment,  which  will  pass  away  as  soon  as  the  pa- 
tient has  been  let  blood  enough. 

As  well  may  they  attempt  to  alter  the  course  of  na- 
ture, without  altering  her  laws.  If  they  v/ould  effect 
a  counter  revolutioa  in  the  European  mind,  they  must 
destroy  commerce  and  its  effects  ;  they  must  abolish  ev- 
ery trace  of  the  mariner's  compass  ;  they  must  consign 
every  book  to  the  flames  ;  they  must  obliterate  every 
vestige  of  the  invention  of  the  press  ;  they  must  destroy 
the  conduit  of  intelligence,  by  destroying*  the  institu- 
tion of  the  post  office.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  they 
and  their  abuses  may  live  on,  in  all  the  security 
which  ignorance,  superstition,  and  want  of  concert  in 
the  peoj:tle  can  bestow. 

But  while  1  would  overwhelm  with  despair  those 
men  who  have  been  nursed  in  the  lap  of  venality  and 
prostitution  ;  who  have  been  educated  in  contempt  and 
ridicule  of  :.  love  for  their  country;  and  who  have 
grown  grey  in  scoffing  at  every  thing  like  public  spirit, 
let  me  congratulate  every  true  friend  to  mankind,  that 
that  commerce,  which  has  begotten  so  much  independ- 
ence, will  continue  to  beget  more  j  and  let  me  congratu- 
late every  friend  to  the  liuman  species,  that  the  press, 
which  has  sent  such  a  mass  of  information  into  the 
world,  will  continue,  with  accelerated  rapidity,  to 
pour  forth  its  treasures  so  beneficial  to  mankind.- 

Itis  to  th^se  great  causes  we  are  indebted,  that  the 
combination  of  priests  and  despots,  which  so  long  ty- 
rannized over  the  civil  and  political  liberty  of  Europe, 
has  been  dissolved.  )tis  to  these  great  causes  we  are 
indebted,  that  no  priest,  be  his  religion  what  it  may, 
dares  preach  the  doctrine  which  inculcates  the  necessity 
of  sacrificing  every  right  and  every  blessing  this  world 
can  afford,  as  the  only  mean  of  obtaining  eternal  hap- 
piness in  the  life  to  come. 

This 


248  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

This  "vvas  the  doctrine  by.  "wliich  the  despotism  of 
Europe  was  so  long  supported;  this  was  the  doctrine 
by  which  the  political  popery  of  Europe  was  supported;, 
but  the  doctrine  and  the  despotism  may  now  sleep  in 
the  same  grave,  until  the  trumpet  of  ignorance,  super- 
stition, and  bigotry,  shall  sound  their  resurrection. 


Scene   from  the   Tragedy  of  Tamerlaxe. 

Enter  Omar  and  Tamerlane. 

Omar,     TTONOR  and  fame 
[Dozvmg.]    aTjl  Forever  wait  the  Emperor ;  may  our 

Prophet 
Give  him  ten  thousand  thousand  days  of  life, 
And  every  day  like  (his.     The  captive  sultan, 
Fierce  in  his  bonds,  and  at  his  fate  repining, 
Attends  your  sacred  wilL 

Tamerlane,     Let  him  approacli. 
[Enter  Bajazet  and  other  Turkish  Prisoners  in  chains 

Tinth  a. guard,] 
When  1  survey  the  ruins  of  this  iicid, 
The  wild  destruction,  which  thy  fierce  ambition 
Has  dealt. among  mankind  ;  (so  many  widows 
And  helpless  orphans  has  thy  battle  made, 
That  half  our  eastern  world  this  day  are  mourners  ;) 
Well  may  I,  in  behalf  of  heaven  and  earth, 
Demand  from  thee  atonement  for  this  wrong. 

BaJ,     Make   thy   demand   of  those  that   own    thy: 
power ; 
Know  1  am  still  beyond  it ;  and  though  fortune 
Has  stript  me  of  the  train  and  j)orap  of  greatness. 
That  outside  of  a  king ;  yet  still  my  soul, 
Fix'd  high,  and  of  itself  alone  dependent, 
Is  ever  free  and  royal;  and  even  now, 
As  at  the  head  of  battle,  does  defy  thee. 
I  know  what  power  the  chance  of  war  has  given, 
And  dare  thee  to  the  use  on't.     This  vile  speeching, 
This  after-game  of  words,  is  what  most  irks  me  ; 

Spare: 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  24^ 

Spare  thot,  and  for  the  rest  'tis  equal  all, 
Be  it  as  it  may. 

Tarn,     Well  was  it  for  the  world, 
When,  on  their  borders,  neighbouring  princes  met. 
Frequent  in  friendly  parle,  by  cool  debates 
Preventing  wasteful  war  :  sueh  should  our  meeting 
Have  been,  hadst  thou  but  held  in  just  regard 
The  sanctity  of  leagues  so  often  sworn  to. 
Canst  thou  believe  thy  Prophet,  or,  what's  more, 
That  Power  supreme, which  made  thee  and  thy  Prophet, 
Will,  with  impunity,  let  pass  that  breach 
Of  sacred  faith  given  to  the  royal  Greek  ? 

Baj,     Thou  pedant  talker !  ha !  art  thou  a  king 
Possess'd  of  sacred  power,  Heaven's  darling  attribute. 
And  dost  thou  prate  of  leagues,  and  oaths,  and  prophets ! 
f  hate  the  Greek,  (perdition  on  his  name !) 
As  I  do  thee,  and  would  have  met  you  both. 
As  death  does  human  nature,  for  destruction. 

7am.     Causeless  to  hate,  is  not  of  human  kind: 
The  savage  brute  that  haunts  in  woods  remote 
And  desert  wilds,  tears  not  the  fearful  traveller. 
If  hunger,  or  some  injury,  provoke  not. 

Baj,     Can  a  king  want  a  cause,  when  empire  bids 
Go  on  ?     What  is  he  born  for,  but  ambition  ? 
It  is  his  hunger,  'tis  his  call  of  natui'e. 
The  noble  appetite  which  will  be  satisfy'd,  '■* 

And,  like  the  food  of  £^ods,  makes  him  immortal. 

Tarn.     Henceforth  1  will  not  wonder  we  were  foes, 
Since  souls  that  differ  so  by  nature,  hate, 
And  strong  antipathy  forbids  their  union. 

Baj,     The  noble  fire  that  warms  me,  does  indeed 
Transcend  thy  coldness.     I  am.  pleas'd  we  differ,. 
Nor  think  alike. 

Tarn.     No:  for  I  think  like  man. 
Thou  like  a  rponster,  from  whose  baleful  presence 
Nature  starts  back  ;  and  though  she  fix'd  her  stamp 
On  thy  rough  mass,  and  mark'd  thee  for  a  man. 
Now,  conscious  of  her  error,  she  disclaims  thee,. 
.As  form'd  for  her  destruction. 

'Tis 


250  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOlt. 

'Tis  true,  I  am  a  king,  as  thou  hast  been ; 
Honor  and  glory  too  have  been  my  aim ; 
But  though  I  dare  face  death,  and  all  the  dangers 
Which  furious  war  wears  in  its  bloody  front. 
Yet  would  I  choose  to  fix  my  name  by  peace, 
By  justice,  and  by  mercy  ;  and  to  raise 
My  trophies  on  the  blessings  of  mankind  : 
Nor  would  1  buy  the  empire  of  the  world 
With  ruin  of  the  people  whom  I  sway, 
On  forfeit  of  my  honor. 

Baj,     Prophet,  I  thank  thee.. 
Confusion !  couldst  thou  rob  me  of  my  glory 
To  dress  up  this  tame  king,  this  preaching  dervise ! 
Unfit  for  war,  thou  shouldst  have  liv'd  secure 
In  lazy  peace,  and  with  debating  senates 
Shar'd  a  precarious  sceptre ;  sat  tamely  still, 
And  let  bold  factions  canton  out  thy  power 
And  wrangle  for  the  spoils  they  robb'd  thee  of; 
Vv^hilst  I,  (O  blast  the  power  that  stops  my  ardour) 
Would,  like  a  tempest,  rush  amidst  the  nations, 
Be  greatly  terrible,  and  deal,  like  Alha, 
My  angry  thunder  on  the  frighted  world. 

Tarn.  The  world  !  'twould  be  too  little  for  thy  pride  i' 
Thou  wouldst  scale  heav'n. 

Baj.     1  would.     Away  !  my  soul 
Disdains  thy  conference. 

Tarn.     Thou  vjf^n,  rash  thing. 
That,  with  gigantic  insolence,  has  dar'd 
To  lift  thy  wretched  self  above  the  stars, 
And  mate  with  power  almighty,  thou  art  fall'n ! 

£nj,     'Tis  false  !  I  am  not  fall'n  from  aught  I  have 
been ! 
At  least  my  soul  resolves  to  keep  her  state, 
And  scorns  to  make  acquaintance  with  ill  fortune. 

Tarn,     Almost  beneath  my  pity  art  thou  fall'n ; 
Since,  while  the  avenging  hand  of  Heav'n  is  on  thee. 
And  presses  to  the  dust  thy  swelling  soul, 
Fool-hardy,  with  the  stronger  thou  contendest. 
To  what  vast  heights  had  thy  tumultuous  temper 

Been 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOK.  251 

Been  hurry M,  if  success  had  crownM  ihy  wishes  ! 
Say,  what  had  I  to  expect,  if  thou  hadst  conquer'd? 

Baj,  Oh,  glorious  thought !  Ye  powers,  I  will  enjoy  it, 
Though  but  in  fancy  ;  imagination  shall 
Make  room  to  entertain  the  vast  idea. 
Oh  !  had  I  been  the  master  but  of  yesterday, 
The  WQild,  the  world  had  felt  mc ;  and  for  thee, 
\  had  us'd  thee,  as  thou  art  to  nie,  a  dog, 
The  object  of  my  scorn  and  mortal  hatred. 
I  would  have  cagVl  thee  for  the  scorn  of  slaves. 
I  would  have  taught  thy  neck  to  know  my  weight, 
And  mounted  from  that  footstool  to  the  saddle  : 
Till  thou  hadst  bcgg'd  to  die  ;  and  e'en  that  mercy 
I  had  deny'd  thee.     New  thou  kiiow'st  my  mind, 
And  question  me  no  larther. 

Tarn.     Well  dost  thou  teach  me 
What  justice  should  exact  from  thee.     Mankind, 
With  one  consent,  cry  out  for  vengeance  on  tiiee ; 
Loudly  they  call  to  cut  off  this  league-breaker, 
This  wild  destroyer,  from  the  face  of  earth. 

Baj.     Do  it,  and  rid  thy  shaking  soul  at  once 
Of  its  worst  f«ar^ 

Tarn,     Why  slept  the  thunder 
That  should  have  arm'd  the  idol  deity, 
And  given  thee  power,  ere  yester  sun  was  set, 
To  shake  the  soul  of  Tamerlane.     Hadst  thou  an  arm 
To  make  thee  fear'd,thou  shouldst  have  prov'd  it  on  me, 
Amidst  the  sweat  and  blood  of  yonder  field. 
When,  through  the  tumult  of  the  war  1  sought  thee, 
Fenc'd  in  with  nations. 

Baj:     Oh,  blast  the  stars 
That  fated  us  to  dirferent  scenes  of  slaughter ! 
Oh  !  could  my  sword  have  met  thee  ! 

Tarn,     Thou  hadst  then, 
As  now,  been  in- my  power,  and  held  thy  life 
Dependent  on  niy  gift.     Yes,  Bajazet, 
I  bid  thee  live.     So  much  my  soul  disdains 
That  thou  shouldst  think  I  can  fear  aught  but  Heaven. 
Nay  more;  couldst  thou  forget  thy  brutal  fierceness, 

And 


,  '252  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

jSnd  form  thyself  to  manhxoocl,  I  would  bid  thee 
Live  and  be  still  a  king,  that  thou  mayst  learn 

What  man  should  be  to  man 

This  royal  tent,  with  such  of  thy  doincstics 

As  can  be  found,  shall  wait  uyion  tiiy  service  4 

Nor  will  J  use  my  fortune  to  demand 

Hard  terms  of  peace  ;  but  such  as  thou  mayst  offer 

With  honor,  I  with  honor  may  receive. 


Colonel  Barre's  Speech  in  the  British  Parlia- 
ment, 1765,  on  the  Stamp-Act  Bill. 


o 


N  the  first  reading  of  the  bill,  Mr.  Townsend 
spoke  in  its  favour ;  and  concluded  with  the  fol- 
lowing w(5rds  :  "  And  will  these  Americans,  children 
planted  by  our  care  ;  nourished  up  by  our  indulgence, 
until  they  are  grown  to  a  degree  of  strength  and  opu- 
lence ;  and  protected  by  our  arms  ;  will  they  grudge 
to  contribute  their  mite,  to  relieve  us  from  the  heavy 
weight  of  that  burthen  which  we  lie  under  ?" 

On  this  Colonel  Barre  rose,  and  answered  Mr.  Towns- 
end  in  the  following  masterly  manner. 

"  They  planted  by  YOUR  care  !"  No ;  your  op- 
pressions planted  them  in  America.  They  fled  from 
your  tyranny,  to  a  then  uncultivated  and  unhospitable 
country,  where  they  exposed  themselves  to  almost  all 
the  hardships  to  which  human  nature  is  liable  ;  and 
among  others,  to  the  cruelties  of  a  savage  foe,  the  most 
subtle,  and  I  will  take  upon  me  to  say,  the  most  for- 
midable of  any  people  upon  the  face  of  the  earth;  and 
yet,  actuated  by  principles  of  true  English  liberty,  they 
met  all  hardships  with  pleasure,  compared  with  those 
they  suffered  in  their  own  country,  from  the  hands  of 
those  who  should  have  been  their  friends. 

*'  They  nourished  up  by  your  indulgence  !"  They 
grew  by  your  neglect  of  them.  As  soon  as  you  fcegan 
to  care  about  them,  that  care  was  exercised  in  sending 

persons 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  253 

persons  to  rule  them,  in  one  department  and  another, 
who  were,  perhaps,  the  deputies  of  deputies  to  some 
members  of  this  House,  sent  to  spy  out  their  liberties, 
to  misrepresent  their  actions,  and  to  prey  upon  them ; 
men,  wliose  behaviour,  on  many  occasions,  has  caused 
the  blood  of  those  sons  of  liberty  to  recoil  within  them  p 
men  promoted  to  the  highest  scat,  of  justice;  sbmej 
who,  to  my  knowledge,  were  glad,  by  going  to  a  for- 
eign country,  to  escape  being  brought  to  the  bar  of  a 
court  of  justice  in  their  own. 

"  They  protected  by  YOUR  arms!*'  They  have 
nobly  taken  up  arms  in  your  defence ;  have  exerted  a 
valour,  amidst  their  constant  and  laborious  industry,  for 
the  defence  of  a  country,  whose  frontier  was  drenched 
in  blood,  while  its  interior  parts  yielded  all  its  litde 
savings  to  your  emoluments. 

And,  believe  me ;  remember  I  this  day  told  you  so, 
that  the  same  spirit  of  freedom,  which  actuated  that 
people  at  first,  will  accompany  them  still.  But  pru- 
dence forbids  me  to  cx])lain  myself  further.  Heaven 
knows,  I  do  not  at  this  time  speak  from  motives  of 
party  heat ;  what  I  deliver  are  the  genuine  sentiments 
of  my  heart. 

However  superiour  to  me  in  general  knowledge  and 
experience  the  respectable  body  of  this  House  may  be, 
yet  1  claim  to  know  more  of  America  than  most  of 
you,  having  seen  and  been  conversant  in  that  country, 
'J'he  people,  I  believe,  are  as  truly  loyal  as  any  subjects 
ihe  king  has  ;  but  a  people  jealous  of  their  liberties, 
and  who  will  vindicate  them,  if  ever  they  should  be 
violated.  But  the  subject  is  too  delicate,  I  will  say  no 
more. 

X  The 


254  THE  COLUiMBIAN  ORATOR. 

The  Last  Day. 
Extract  from  a  manuscript  Poem. 


THE  day  of  Doom,  the  all-important  day, 
I  sing ;  that  link  extreme  of  time,  which  joins 
The  measur'd  chain  of  days,  and  months,  and  years, 
To  one  eternal,  one  effulgent  day: 
Day  to  the  children  of  the  day  ;  but  night, 
Eternal  night,  to  all  the  sons  of  darkness. 
The  time  affix'd  by  God's  decree  arrives. 
Th'  Almighty  spake  :  heav'n  open'd  wide  her  gates. 
The  herald,  Gabriel,  far  advanc'd  in  front, 
Rais'd  on  seraphic  wings,  first  issued  forth. 
Next  the  Creation's  Sire,  vciPd  in  a  cloud 
Of  awful  gloom,  from  which  red  lightnings  flash'd. 
And  rending  thunders  roar'd,  pass'd  through  the  gates. 
At  his  right  hand  sat  his  eternal  Son, 
High  rais'd  upon  a  golden  throne  emboss'd 
With  gems,  that  sparkled  through  the  cloud.     Angels 
And  saints,  the  countless  host  of  those,  who  hold 
The  realms  of  bliss,  next  in  procession'mov'd ; 
Nor  could  the  wide-extended  space  from  Aries 
To  the  scales,  that  poise  the  hemispheres, 
Contain  the  arrny  of  the  skies. 

The  earth  had  never  seen  a  larger  host, 
Than  when  the  foe  of  Greece  spread  o'er  the  land 
And  sea  from  Heb^-us  to  Thermopylae ; 
But  this  was  small,  c-onjpar'd  with  what  the  heavens 
Now  saw,  as  earth  is  small  compar'd  with  heaven. 
The  numerous  stars,  that  hold  their  course  along 
The  milky-way,  and  in  the  iicighb'ring  skies, 
No  sooner  saw  their  Maker  cloth'd  in  storms. 
And  felt  his  thunder  shake  their  solid  spheres, 
1'han  trembling  they  retire  ;  as  when  some  king 
Enrag'd  frowns  on  his  slaves,  who  flee  his  face. 
Till  he  commands  them  stand  and  hear  his  wilL 
So  had  the  fridited  stars  fied  off  and  left 

The 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  256 

The  mundane  space  all  void,  had  not  the  trump 
Of  Gabriel  interpos'd,  and  with  a  voice 
More  loud,  than  ever  yet  creation  heard, 
Impress'd  the  mandates  of  all  nature's  God 
Upon  all  nature's  works.     Ye  stars  !  (said  he) 
Return,  and  hold  yonr  station  in  your  ©rbs  ; 
There  stand  and  see  what  fie  on  eartli  transacts 
Tliis  day,  and  witness  how  He  deals  with  man. 
Thou  sun !  who  from  the  birth  of  time  hast  roll'd 
Thy  chariot  round  the  v/orld,  and  shed  thy  beam* 
Alike  on  all  mankind,  look  on  and  see 
The  equal  justice  of  thy  God  to  man 
Outshine  thy  equal  rays.     Th'  affrighted  earth 
Took  the  alarm  of  heav'n  :  the  atmosphere 
Assay'd  to  flee  upon  the  wings  of  storm. 
Fierce  tempests  beat  the  lofty  mountains'  side-:;, 
Sweep  forests  down,  and  spread  destruction  o'er 
The  works  of  man.     The  troubled  ocean  heaves  : 
His  surging  billows  mingle  with  the  clouds  : 
His  deepest  caverns  lie  expos'd  to  view. 
The  earth,  convuls'd  from  her  deep  centre,  heaves. 
Order  forsook  the  world  :  discord  spread  w^ide. 
The  confus'd  elements  again  had  join'd 
The  listless  empire  of  primeval  chaos. 
Had  not  harmonic  sounds  assuag'd  their  tumult. 

Spirit  divine  !  thou  soul  of  harmony 
In  heaven  and  earth,  breathe  through  my  lines  and  speak 
The  power  of  music's  charms,  when  heavenly  love 
VVarm'd  every  breast  of  angels,  seraphim, 
And  doubly  glowM  in  the  Almighty's  Son ; 
Who,  like  a  bridegroom  clad  in  smiling  youth 
And  robes  of  peace,  prcpar'd  to  meet  his  bride. 
The  lightnings  ceas'd  ;  the  thunders  died,  when  he 
Complacent  smil'd.     Gabriel,  and  all  the  choir 
Of  heaven,  said  he,  hush  the  commoved  world, 
And  wake  the  sleeping  saints  with  sounds  of  peace. 
His  words  like  melting  music  flow'd:  his  face, 
More  radiant  than  the  vernal  morn,  that  smiles 
The  earth  to  joy.     The  trump  of  Gabriel  led 

The 


256  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

The  choral  song  :  unnumber'd  harps  of  gold, 

And  voices  sweet  join'd  the  melodious  sounds 

Discord,  that  late  had  mov'd  the  elements 

To  war,  and  'gan  t'  invade  the  spheres. 

Was  hush'd  to  sleep.     Quick  chang'd  the  scene, 

From  raging  discord,  universal  storm,' 

To  soothing  sounds,  and  universal  calm. 

The  sun,  from  blackest  clouds,  unveiPd  his  fece, 

And  shone  with  double  radiance  on  the  earth. 

The  iixed  stars  had  ceas'd  to  shed  their  beams, 

And  trembling,  hid  in  sable  darkness,  stood ; 

But  now,  enraptur'd  with  symphonious  sounds, 

They  dart  their  genial  rays,  and  fill  their  orbs 

lYith  pleasing  light,  and  soul-reviving  warmth. 

But  thou,  O  Earth,  most  felt  the  pleasing  change, 

Fierce  storms  were  mute. 

Old  ocean  heard,  and  smoothed  his  tempest  face  ; 
And  spring-like  beauty  smiPd  on  all  the  earth. 

Poets  have  sung  of  Orpheus'  potent  lyre ; 
Eurydice,  forc'd  from  the  bands  of  death, 
Of  bending  trees  and  moving  rocks  obsequious 
To  the  sound.     But  now  whole  worlds  obey. 
Death  could  not  hold  his  victims  in  the  tomb. 
*'  Thou  monarch  of  the  grave,  resign  the  just ! 
Awake !  ye  saints,  from  your  long  night  of  sleep, 
Adorn'd  with  ever-blooming  youth  and  robes 
Of  heavenly  innocence.     Salute  the  morn 
Of  everlasting  day."     Thus  sung  the  choir. 
Death's  dreary  mansions  heard  with  sad  dismay. 
In  the  mid  regions  of  eternal  night. 
There  sits  the  ghastly  monarch  on  his  throne. 
Substantial  darkness  fills  the  broad  domain : 
Heart-chilling  vapours  rise  from  noxious  lakes. 
His  servants,  War,  Intemp'rance,  Plague,  Revenge, 
Consumption,  wrinkled  Age,  groan  discord  round 
His  throne,  and  offer  up  their  loathsome  fumes 
Of  putrid  corps,  contagion,  dead'ning  blasts  ; 
Sweet  incense  to  their  king;  or  run  before 
His  grisly  steed,  when  he  rides  o'er  the  earth. 

A  nd 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  ^^57 

And  crops  with  chilling  hand  the  bloom  of  life. 

Here  reigns  the  awful  monarch  of  the  dead; 

When  the  full  sound  spread  thro'  his  darksome  realms, 

His  heart  a])paIPd,  he  trembles  on  his  throne  : 

His  iron  nerves  relax  :  his  sceptre  falls. 

The  saints  releas-d,  their  dreary  mansions  leave  : 

But  O  how  chang'd ! 

No  cumb'rous  load  of  grosser  elements. 

But  pure  aerial  forms  their  soul  possess  ; 

Forms,  like  the  glorious  body  of  their  Lord, 

Glowing  with  beauty  and  immortal  bloom. 

A  Dialogue  on  Loquacity. 

Enter  Stefhex. 
^  J  T  ADIES  and  gendemen,  you  have  prob- 
ep  len,  |  ^  ^^^^y  i-jg^^rd  of  Foote,  the  comedian  :  if 
not,  ii  is  out  pi'  my  power  to  tell  you  any  thing  about 
him,  except  this;  he  had  but  one  leg,  and  his  name 
was  Samuel.  Or,  to  speak  more  poetically,  one  leg 
he  had,  and  Samuel  v/as  his  name.  This  Foote  wrote 
a  farce,  called  the  Alderman  ;  in  which  he  attempted 
to  ridicule  a  well-fed  magistrate  of  the  city  of  London. 
This  last,  hearing  of  the  intended  affroiit,  called  upon 
the  player,  and  threatened  him  severely  for  his  pre- 
sumption. Sir,  says  Foote,  it  is  my  business  to  take  off 
people.  You  shall  see  hov/  w^ell  I  can  take  myself  off. 
So  out  of  the  room  he  went,  as  though  to  prepare. 
The  Alderman  sat  waiting,  and  waiting,  and  waiting, 

and 1  have   forgotten  the  rest  of  the  story; 

but  it  ended  very  comically.  So  I  must  request  of  you, 
to  muster  up  your  wit,  and  each  one  end  the  story  to 
his  own  liking.  You  are  all  wondering  what  this 
story  leads  to.  Why,  I'll  tell  you  ;  Footc's  farce  was 
called  the  Alderm.an,  ours  is  called  the  Medley  ;.  his 
was  written  according  to  rule,  ours  is  composed  at  loose 
ends.  Yet  loose  as  it  is,  you  will  find  it  made  up,  like 
X2  ali 


258  THE  COLUMBlAiX  ORATOR. 

all  otlier  pieces,  of  nouns,  pronouns,  verbs,  participlesr, 
adverbs,  conjunctions,  articles,  adjectives,  prepositions, 
and  interjections.  Now,  words  are  very  harmless 
things  ;  though  1  confess  that  much  dej^ends  upon  the 
manner  of  putting  them  together.  The  only  thing  to 
be  settled  is,  that,  if  you  should  dislike  the  arrange- 
ment, you  will  please  to  alter  it,  till  it  suits  you. 
Enter  Trueman. 

Trueman,  What  are  you  prating  about  at  such  a  rate  ? 

Steph*  I  am  speaking  of  Sam  Foote,  and  prepositions, 
and  adverbs,  and  many  other  great  characters. 

Tru,  Now,  don't  you  know,  that  your  unruly 
tongue  will  be  the  ruin  of  you  ?  Did  you  ever  see  a  man 
who  was  foaming  and  frothing  at  the  mouth  as  you  are, 
that  ever  said  any  thing  to  the  purpose  ?  You  ought 
always  to  think  before  you  speak,  and  to  consider  well 
to  whom  you  speak, and  the  place  and  time  of  speaking. 

SUph.  Pi'ay  who  taught  you  all  this  worldly  wisdom  ? 

Tru,  My  own  experience,  Sir ;  whicii  is  said  to  be 
the  beat  school-master  in  the  world,  and  ought  to  teach 
it  to  every  man  of  common  sense. 

Stepk.  Then,  do  not  imagine  that  you  possess  any 
great  secret.  "  Keep  your  tongue  between  your  teeth" 
is  an  old  proverb,  rusted  and  crusted  over,  till  nobody 
can"  tell  what  it  was  first  made  of.  Prudence,  indeed, 
teaches  the  same.  So  prudence  may  teach  a  merchant 
to  keep  his  vessels  in  port  for  fear  of  a  storm  at  sea. 
But,  "  nothing  venture,  nothing  have"  is  my  proverb. 
Nov\^  suppose  all  the  world  should  adopt  this  prudence, 
what  a  multitude  of  mutes  we  should  have  !  There 
would  be  an  end  o^news,  lawsuits,  politics,  and  soci- 
ety. I  tell  you,  Sir,  that  busy  tongues  are  like  main 
springs  ;  they  set  every  thing  in  motion. 

7ru,  But  whcrc's  a  man's  dignity,  all  this  time,  while 
his  tongue  i.s    running  at  random,    without   a   single 
nought  to  guide  it  ? 

Steph,  His  dignity  !  that  indeed  !  Out  upon  parole, 

here  it  ought  to  be.     A  man's  dignity !    as  though 
■, -'  ran'c  imo  tlie.'^'orld  to  support  dignity,  and  by  an 

affected 


THlE  COLUMBIAN'  ORATOR.  259 

affected  distance,  to  make  our  friends  feel  their  inferi- 
ority. I  consider  men  like  coins,  which,  because 
stamped  with  men's  heads,  pass  for  more  than  thcv 
are  worth.  And  v/hen  the  world  is  willing  to  treat 
a  man  better  than  he  deserves,  there  is  a  meanness  in 
endeavouring  to  extoj-t  more  ffom  them. 

Tru»  But  shall  a  man  speak  without  thinking  '/  Did 
you  ever  read  the  old  proverb,  **  Think  tv/ice,  before 
you  speak  once  ?'' 

Supk,  Ves,  and  a  vile  one  it  is.  If  a  man  speak 
from  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  he'll  speak  the  mean- 
ing of  his  heart ;  ar.d  will  probably  speak  the  truth. 
But  if  he  mind  your  musty  proverb,  there  will  be 
more  pros  and  cons  in  his  head,  more  hems  and  haws 
in  his  delivery,  than  there  arc  letters  in  his  sentences. 
To  your  sly,  subtle,  thinking  fellows,  w^e  owe  all-  the 
lies,  cheating,  hypocrisy,  and  double  dealing  there 
is  m  the  world. 

Tru,  But  you  know  that  every  subject  has  its  sides  ; 
and  we  ought  to  examine,  reilect, analyze,  sift, consider, 
nnd  determine,  before  we  have  a  i*ight  to  speak  5  for 
the  world  are  entitled  to  the  best  of  our  thoughts. 
What  would  you  think  of  a  tradesman,  who  should  send 
home  your  coat,  boots,  or  hat,  half  iiuished?  You 
might  think  him  a 'very  honest-hearted  fellow  ;  but 
you'd  never  employ  him  again. 

Steph,  Now,  was  there  any  need  of  bringing  in  tai- 
lors, cobblers,  and  hatters,  to  help  you  out  /  They  have 
.nothing  to  do  with  this  subject. 

Tru»  You  don't  understand  me.  I  sfiy,  if  you 
would  never  employ  such  workmen,  a  second  time,  why 
should  you  justify  a  man  for  turning  out  liis  thoughts 
half  iinished  ?  The  mind  labours  as  actually  in  thinking 
upon,  and  maturing  a  subject,  as  the  body  does  in  the 
field,  or  on  the  shop-board.  And,  if  the  farmer  knows 
when  his  grain  is  ready  for  the  sickle,  and  the  mechanic, 
when  his  work  is  ready  for  his  customer,  the  man,  who 

'ised  to  thinking,  knows  when  he  is  master  of  his 

subject, 


i}60  TliE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

subject,  and  the    proper    time  to    communicate    his 
thoughts  with  ease  to  himself  and  advantage  to  others. 

Steph,  All  this  is  escaping  the  subject.  None  of 
your  figures,  when  the  very  original  is  before  you. 
You  talk  about  a  man's  mind,  just  as  if  it  were  a 
piece  of  gi-ound,  capable  of  bearing  flax  and  hemp. 
You  have  fiiirly  brought  forward  a  shop-board,  and 
mounted  your  tailor  upon  it..  Now  I  have  no  notion 
of  any  cross-legged  work  in  my  inner  man.  In  fact, 
I  don't  understand  all  this  process  of  thiniling.  My 
knowledge  upon  all  subjects  is  very  near  the  root  of  my 
tongue,  and  I  feel  great  j*elief,  when  it  gets  near  the  tip. 

Trii,  Depend  on  it  that  thousands  have  lost  fame 
and  even  life  by  too  great  freedom  of  speech*.  Trea- 
sons, murders,  and  robberies,  have  been  generally  dis- 
covered by  the  imprudent  boasting  of  the  perpetrators. 

Stcph,  Depend  on  it,  that  our  world  has  suffered 
far  more  by  silent,  than  by  prattling  knaves.  Suppose 
every  man  were  to  speak  all  his  thoughts,  relate  all  his 
actions,  declare  all  his  purposes,  would  the  world  be  in 
danger  of  crimes  ?  No  ;  be  assured,  that  magistrates, 
bailiffs,  thief-takers,  prisons,  halters,  and  gallows,  all 
owe  their  dignity  to  the  contrivance  of  your  sly,  plod- 
dins;  mutes. 

Tn^,  You  have  let  off  from  the  tip  of  your  tongue 
a  picked  company  of  dignified  substantives  ;  but  take 
liOtice  that  my  doctrine  does  not  extend  to  the  midnight 
silence  of  robbers  ;  but  to  a  due  caution  and  reserve  in 
conveying  our  thoughts  to  the  world.  And  this  I  hope 
ever  to  observe.  And  if  you  determine  on  a  different 
course,  rest  assured,  that  the  consequences  will  not  be 
very  ])leasant.  [Exit. 

Steph,  Consequences  !  that's  counting  chickens  be- 
fore they  are  hatched.  Dignity  of  human  nature  ! 
Pretty  v/ords  !  just  fit  to  h<?.  ranked  widi  the  honour  of 
thieves,  and  the  courag'i  of  mo<leni  duellists. 

American 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  261 


American  Sages. 


SEE  on  yon  dark'ning  height  bold  Franklin  tread, 
Heav'n's  awful  thundors  rolling  o'er  his  head  j 
Convolving  clouds  the  billowy  skies  deform, 
And  forky  liames  embk/.e  the  blackening  storm. 
See  the  descending  streams  around  him  hurn, 
Glar.cc  on  }ji=  rod,  and  with  his  guidance  turn; 
He  bids  convicting  heav'ns  their  blast  expire, 
Curbs  the  fierce  blaze,  and  holds  th'^imprisonM  fire. 
No  more,  when  folding  storm.s  the  vault  o'erspread, 
The  livid  glare  shall  strike  thy  face  with  dread ; 
Nor  tow'rs  nor  temples,  shudd'ring  with  the  sound, 
Sink  in  the  flames,  and  spread  derUruction  round. 
His  daring  toils,  the  threatening  blasts  that  wait. 
Shall  teach  mankind  to  ward  the  bolts  of  fate  ; 
Tlie  pointed  steel  o'ei'top  th'  ascending  spire, 
And  lead  o'er  trembling  walls  the  harmless  lire  ; 
In  his  glad  fame  while  distant  worlds  rejoice. 
Far  as  the  lightnings  shine,  or  thunders  raise  their  voice. 

See  the  sageRittcnhouse,  v/ith  ardent  eye. 
Lift  the  long  tube,  and  pierce  the  starry  sky  : 
Clear  in  his  viev/  the  circling  systems  roll, 
And  broader  splendours  gild  the  central  pole. 
He  marks  what  lavv^s  th'  eccentric  wand'rers  bind, 
Copies  creation  in  his  forming  mind. 
And  bids,  beneath  his  hand,  in  semblance  rise. 
With  mimic  orbs,  the  labours  of  the  skies. 
There  wond'ring  crowds,  with  raptur'd  eye,  behold 
The  spangled  heav'ns  their  mystic  maze  unfold ; 
While  each  glad  sage  his  splendid  hall  shall  grace, 
With  all  the  spheres  that  cleave  th'  ethereal  space. 

To  guide  the  sailor  in  his  wand'ring  way, 
-ee  Godfrey's  toils  reverse  the  beams  of  day. 
His  lifted  quadrant  to  the  eye  displays 
From  adverse  skies  the  counteractiuir  rays  : 
y  And  marks,  as  devious  sails  bewildcr'd  roll, 
"Each  nice  gradation  from  the  stedfast  pole. 

Extract 


262  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 


Extract  from  Mr.  Pitt's  Speech,  Nov.  13,  1777, 
ON  American  Affairs. 

1RISE,  my  lords,  to  declare  my  sentiments  on  thi» 
most  solemn  and  serious  suoject.  It  has  imposed 
a  load  upon  my  mind,  which,  I  fear,  nothing  can  re- 
move ;  but  which  impels  me  to  endeavour  its  alleviation, 
hy  a  free  and  unreserved  communication  of  my  senti- 
ments. In  the  lirst  part  of  the  address,  I  have  the' 
honor  of  heartily  concurring  with  the  noble  Earl  who 
moved  it.  No  man  feels  sincerer  joy  than  I  do ;  none 
can  offer  more  genuine  congratulation  on  every  acces- 
sion of  strength  to  the  protestant  succession  :  I  there- 
fore join  in  every  congratulation  on  the  birth  of  another 
princess,  and  the  happy  recovery  of  her  Majesty. 

But  I  must  stop  here  ;  my  courtly  complaisance  will 
carry  me  no  farther.  I  will  not  join  in  congratulation 
on  misfortune  and  disgrace.  I  cannot  concur  in  a 
blind  and  servile  address,  which  approves,  and  endeav- 
ours to  sanctify,. the  monstrous  measures  that  have  heap- 
ed disgrace  and  misfortune  upon  us  ;  that  have  brought 
ruin  to  our  doors.  This,  my  lords,  is  a  perilous  and 
tremendous  moment!  It  is  not  a  time  for  adulation. 
The  smoothness  of  flattery  cannot  now  avail ;  cannot 
save  us  in  this  rugged  and  awful  crisis.  It  is  now  ne- 
cessary to  instruct  the  throne  in  the  language  of  truth. 
We  must  dispel  the  delusion  and  the  darkness  which 
envelop  it  -,  and  display,  in  its  full  danger  and  true 
colours,  the  ruin  that  it  has  brought  to  our  doors. 

Am]  who  is  the  minister ;  where  is  the  minister,  who 
has  dared  to  suggest  to  the  throne  the  contrary,  un- 
constitutional language,  this  day  delivered  from  it  ? 
The  accustomed  language  from  the  throne  has  been 
application  to  Parliament  for  advice,  and  a  reliance  on 
its  constitutional  advice  and  assistance.  As  it  is  the 
right  of  Parliament  to  give,  so  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
crown  to  ask  it.     But  on  this  day,  and  in  (his  extreme 

momentouS' 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  2G3 

iDoraentous  exigency,  no  reliance  is  reposed  on  our 
constitutional  counsels !  no  advice  is  asked  from  the 
sober  and  enlightened  care  of  Parliament !  But  the 
crown,  from  itself,  and  by  itself,  declares  an  unaltera- 
ble determination  to  pursue  measures.  And  v.Lat 
measures,  my  lords  ?  The  measures  diat  have  pro- 
duced imminent  perils  that  threaten  us ;  the  measures 
that  have  brought  ruin  to  our  doors. 

Can  the  Minister  of  the  day  now  presume  to  expect 
a  continuance  of  support,  in  this  ruinous  infatuation  ? 
Can  Parliament  be  so  dead  to  its  dignity  and  its  duty, 
as  to  be  thus  deluded  into  the  loss  of  the  one,  and  the 
violation  of  the  other?  To  give  an  unlimited  credit 
and  support  for  the  perseverance  in  measures,  vvhich 
have  reduced  this  late  flourishing  empire  to  ruin  and 
contempt!  "But  yesterday,  and  England  might  have 
stood  against  the  world  :  now  none  so  poor  to  do  her 
reverence."  I  use  the  words  of  a  poet;  but  though 
it  is  poetry,  it  is  no  fiction.  It  is  a  shameful  truth, 
that  not  only  the  power  and  strength  of  this  country 
are  wasting  away  and  expiring ;  but  her  well-earned 
glories,  her  true  honors,  and  substantial  dignity,  are 
sacrificed. 

France,  my  lords,  has  insulted  you  ;  she  has  iencour- 
•aged  and  sustained  America  ;  and  whether  America  be 
wrong  or  right,  the  dignity  of  this  country  ought  to 
spurn  at  the  officious  insult  of  French  interference. 
The  ministers  and  ambassadors  of  those  who  arc  called 
rebels  and  enemies,  are  in  Paris  ;  in  Paris  they  trans*' 
act  the  reciprocal  interests  of  America  and  France.* 
Can  there  be  a  more  mortifying  insult  ?  Can  even  our 
ministers  sustain  a  more  humiliating  disgrace  ?  Do  they 
dare  to  resent  it  ?  Do  they  presume  even  to  hint  a 
vindication  of  their  honor,  and  the  dignity  of  the  State, 
by  requiring  the  dismissal  of  the  plenipotentiaries  of 
America  ?  Such  is  the  degradation  to  which  they  have 
reduced  the  glories  of  England  ! 

The  people,  Avhom  they  affect  to  call  contemptible 
rebels,  but  whose  growin-g  power  has  at  last  obtained 

the 


264  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

the  name  of  enemies;  the  people  with  whom  they 
have  engaged  this  country  in  war,  and  against  whom 
they  now  command  our  implicit  support  in  every  meas- 
ure of  desperate  hostility  :  this  people,  despised  as  reb- 
els, are  acknowledged  as  enemies,  are  .abetted  against 
you  ;  supplied  with  every  military  store  ;  their  interests 
consulted,  and  their  ambassadors  entertained,  by  your 
inveterate  enemy !  and  our  ministers  dare  not  inter- 
pose with  dignity  or  effect.  Is  this  the  honor  of  a 
great  kingdom  ?  Is  this  the  indignant  spirit  of  England, 
who,  but  yesterday,  gave  law  to  the  house  of  Bour- 
bon ?  My  lords,  the  dignity  of  nations  demands  a  deci- 
sive conduct  in  a  situation  like  this. 

This  ruinous  and  ignominious  situation,  where  we 
cannot  act  with  success,  nor  suffer  with  honor,  calls 
upon  us  to  remonstrate  in  the  strongest  and  loudest  lan- 
guage of  truth,  to  rescue  the  ear  of  Majesty  from  the 
delusions  which  surround  it.  The  desperate  state  of  our 
arms  abroad  is  in  part  known.  No  man  thinks  more 
highly  of  them  than  I  do.  I  love  and  honor  the  En- 
glish troops.  1  know  they  can  achieve  any  thing  except 
impossibilities :  and  1  know  that  the  conquest  of  English 
America  is  an  impossibility.  You  cannot,  I  venture 
to  say  it,  you  CANNOT  conquer  America. 

Your  armies,  last  year,  effected  every  thing  that 
could  be  effected  ;  and  what  was  it  ?  It  cost  a  numerous 
army,  under  the  command  of  a  most  able  general,  now 
a  noble  lord  in  this  House,  a  long  and  laborious  cam- 
paign, to  expel  live  thousand  Frenchmen  from  French 
America.  My  lords,  you  CANNOT  conquer  Amer- 
ica. What  is  your  present  situation  there  ?  We  do 
not  know  the  worst ;  but  we  know,  that  in  three 
campaigns  we  have  done  nothing,  and  suffered  much. 
We  shall  soon  know,  and  in  any  event,  have  reason  to 
lament,  what  may  have  happened  since. 

As  to  conquest,  therefore,  my  lords,  I  repeat,  it  is 
impossible.  You  may  swell  every  expense,  and  every 
effort,  still  more  extravagantly  ;  pile  and  accumulate 
every  assistance  you  can  buy  or  borrow;  traffic  and 

barter 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  265 

barter  with  every  little  pitiful  German  prince,  who 
sells  his  subjects  to  the  shambles  of  a  foreign  power  ;^' 
your  efforts  are  forever  vain  and  impotent ;  doubly  so 
5:om  this  mercenary  aid  on  which  you  rely.  For  it 
irritates,  to  an  incm-able  resentment,  the  minds  of  your 
enemies,  to  overrun  them  with  the  mercenary  sons  of 
rapine  and  plunder;  devoting  them  and  their  posses-^ 
sions  to  the  rapacity  of  hireling  cruelty  !  If  I  were  an' 
American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman,  while  a  foreign  ti'oop 
remained  in  my  country,  I  NEVER  would  lay  down 
my  arms ;  NEVER,  NEVER,  NEVER. 


Scene   from  the  Tragedy  of  Cato. 

Cato,  Lucius,  and  Sempronius. 
C  t    TT^ATHERS,  we  once  again  are  met  in  council : 

^  '  1.     Cesar's  approach  has  summoned  us  together, 
And  Rome  attends  her  fate  from  our  resolves. 
How  shall  we  treat  this  bold,  aspiring  man  ? 
Success  still  follows  him,  and  backs  his  crimes  : 
Pharsalia  gave  him  Rome^  Egypt  has  since 
Receiv'd  his  yoke,  and  the  whole  Nile  is  Cesar's. 
Why  should  I  mention  Juba's  overthrow, 
And  Scipio's  death?  Numidia's  burning  sands 
Still  smoke  with  blood.     'Tis  time  we  should  decree 
What  course  to  take.     Our  foe  advances  on  us, 
And  envies  us  even  Lybia's  sultry  deserts. 
Fathers,  pronounce  your  thoughts  ;  are  they  still  fix'd 
To  hold  it  out,  and  fight  it  to  the  last  ? 
Or  are  your  hearts  subdued  at  length,  and  WTOUght 
By  time  and  ill  success  to  a  submission  ? 
Sempronius,  speak. 

Sempronius.,     My  voice  is  still  for  war. 
Heav'ns !  can  a  Roman  senate  long  debate 
Which  of  the  two  to  choose,  slav'ry  or  death ! 
No  ;  let  us  rise  at  once,  gird  on  our  swords, 
And  at  the  head  of  our  remaining  troops, 

Y  Attack 


^e^  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

Attack  the  foe,  break  through  the  thick  array 

Of  his  throng'd  legions,  and  charge  home  upon  him. 

Perhaps  some  arm,  more  lucky  than  the  rest, 

May  reach  his  heart,  and  free  the  world  from  bondage. 

Rise,  fathers,  rise!  'tis  Rome  demands  your  help  ; 

Rise,  and  revenge  her  slaughter'd  citizens, 

Or  share  their  fate  !  The  corpse  of  half  her  senate 

Manure  the  fields  of  Thessaly,  while  we 

Sit  here  deliberating  in  cold  debates.. 

If  we  shall  sacrifice  our  lives  to  honor, 

Or  wear  them  out  in  servitude  and  chains. 

Rouse  up,  for  shame  !  our  brothers  of  Pharsaiia 

Point  at  their  wounds,  and  cry  aloud,  to  battle ! 

Great  Pompey's  shade  complains  that  we  are  slow, 

And  Scipio's  ghost  walk's  unrevengM  among  us. 

Cato.     Let  not  a  torrent  of  impetuous  zeal 
Transport  thee  thus  beyond  the  bounds  of  reason. 
True  fortitude  is  seen  in  great  exploits 
That  justice  warrants,  and  that  wisdom  guides. 
All  else  is  tow'ring  frenzy  and  distraction. 
Are  not  the  lives  of  those  who  draw  the  sword 
In  Rome's  defence  intrusted  to  our  care  ? 
Should  we  thus  lead  them  to  the  field  of  slaughter, 
Might  not  th'  impartial  world  with  reason  say. 
We  lavish'd  at  our  death  the  blood  of  thousands, 
To  grace  our  fall,  and  make  our  ruin  glorious  ? 
Lucius,  we  next  would  know  what's  your  opinion  ? 

Luc,  My  thoughts,  I  must  confess,  are  turn'don  peace. 
Already  have  our  quarrels  fill'd  the  world 
With  widows,  and  with  orphans.     Scythia  mourns 
Our  guilty  wars,  and  earth's  remotest  regions 
Lie  half  unpeopled  by  the  feuds  of  Rome. 
'Tis  thne  to  sheathe  the  sword,  and  sparp .mankind. 
U  is  not  Cesar,  but  the  gods,  my  fathers  J 
The  gods  declare  against  us ;  repel 
Our  vain  attempts.     To  urge  the  foe  to  battle, 
Prompted  by  blind  revenge,  and  wild  despair, 
Were  to  refuse  th^  awards  of  Providence, 
And  not  to  rest  in  Heav'n''s  determination. 

Aheadr 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  267 

Already  have  we  shown  our  love  to  Rome; 

Now  let  us  show  submission  to  the  gods. 

We  took  up  arras,  not  to  revenge  ourselves, 

But  free  the  commonwealth  ;  when  this  end  fails, 

Arms  have  no  further  use  :  our  country's  cause, 

That  drew  our  sv.ords,  now  wrests  them  from  our  hands, 

And  bids  us  not  delight  in  Roman  blood, 

Unprofitably  shed,     ^Vhat  men  could  do, . 

Is  done  already.     Heav'n  and  earth  will  witness. 

If  Rome  must  fall,  that  we  are  innocent. 

Caio.     Let  us  appear  nor  rash  nor  diffident ; 
Imniod'rate  valour  swells  into  a  fault ; 
And  fear,  admitted  into  public  councils, 
Betrays  like  treason.     Let  us  shun  them  both. 
Fathers,  I  cannot  see  that  our  affairs 
Are  grown  thus  desp'rate  :  we  have  bulwarks  round  us' : 
Within  our  walls  are  troops  inur'd  to  toil 
In  Afric's  heats,  and  season'd  to  the  sun : 
Numidia's  spacious  kingdom  lies  behind  us, 
Ready  to  rise  at  its  young  prince's  call. 
While  there  is  hope,  do  not  distrust  the  gods ; 
But  wait  at  least  till  Cesar's  near  approach 
Force  us  to  yield.     'Twill  never  be  too  late 
To  sue  for  chains,  and  own  a  conqueror. 
Why  should  Rome  fall  a-  moment  ere  her  time  ? 
No,  let  us  draw  our  term  of  freedom  out 
In  its  full  length,  and  spin  it  to  the  last ; 
So  shall  we  gain  still  one  day's  liberty : 
And  let  me  perish  ;  but  in  Cato's  judgment, 
A  day,  an  hour  of  virtuous  liberty, 
Is  worth  a  whole  eternity  in  bondage. 

Extract 


-03  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR- 


Extract  from  an  Oration,  delivered  at  Boston, 
July  4,  1794,    in   Commemoration  of  American 

Independence. 


A  MERICANS !  you  have  a  country  vast  in  extent, 
Jr\.  and  embracing  all  the  varieties  of  the  most  sa- 
lubrious clirnes  :  held  not  by  charters  wrested  from  un- 
willing kings,  but  the  bountiful  gift  of  the  Author  of 
nature.  The  exuberance  of  your  population  is  daily 
divesting  the  gloomy  wilderness  of  its  rude  attire,  and 
sploiiui?,!  cities  rise  to  cheer  the  dreary  desert.  You 
have  a  government  deservedly  celebrated  as  "  giving 
the  sanctions  of  law  to  the  precepts  of  reason ;"  pre- 
senting, instead  of  the  rank  luxuriance  of  natural  licen- 
tiousness, the  corrected  sweets  of  civil  liberty.  You 
have  fought  the  battles  of  freedom,  and  enkindled  that 
sacred  flame  which  now  glows  with  vivid  fervour 
through  the  greatest  empire  in  Europe. 

We  indulge  the  sanguine  hope,  that  her  equal  laws 
and  virtuous  conduct  will  hereafter  aiTord  examples  of 
imitation  to  all  surrounding  nations.  That  the-blissful 
period  will  soon  arrive  when  man  shall  be  elevated  to 
his  primitive  character;  when  illuminated  reason  and 
regulated  liberty  shall  once  more  exhibit  him  in  the 
image  of  his  Maker;  when  all  the  inhabitants  of  the 
globe  shall  be  freemen  and  fellow-citizens,  and  patriot- 
ism itself  be  lost  in  universal  philanthropy.  Then  shall 
volumes  of  incense  incessantly  roll  from  altars  inscribed 
to  liberty.  Then  shall  the  innumerable  varieties  of  the 
human  race  unitedly  "  worship  in  her  sacred  tem])le, 
whose  pillars  shall  rest  on  the  remotest  corners  of  the 
earth,  and  v/hose  arch  will  be  the  vault  of  heaven." 

Dialogue 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  269 


Dialogue    tetween  a  white    Inhabitant    of   the 
T^xiTED  States  and  a\  Indian. 


1VJ  f    nr       "\7"0UR  friends,  the  inhabitants  of  the 
frnue  Man,     J^     ^,^^j^^^  g^^^^^^  ^^..^j^  ^^  ^^^^^^,  ^^^^  ^^^^ 

ahawk,  anJ  live  in  peace  with  the  Indian  tribes. 

Indian.  Justice  is  the  parent  of  peace.  The  Indians 
love  war  only  as  they  love  justice.  Let  us  enjoy  our 
rights,  and  be  content  with  yours,  and  we  will  hang 
the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife  upon  the  tree  of 
peace,  and  sit  down  together  under  its  branches. 

IV,  Man.  This  is  what  we  desire,  and  what  is  your 
interest  as  wcii  as  ours  to  promote.  We  have  often 
made  leagues  with  you;  they  have  been  as  often  broken. 
If  justice  were  your  guide,  and  peace  your  desire,  they 
would  be  better  regarded. 

Ind.  The  White  Men  are  robbers.  We  do  not 
choose  to  be  at  peace  with  robbers  ;  it  is  more  to  our 
honor  to  be  at  war  with  them. 

IF.  Man.  It  is  in  our  power  to  punish  the  aggres- 
sors ;  we  have  more  warriors  than  the  Indians ;  but  we 
choose  to  employ  arguments  rather  than  force. 

Ind.  I  have  heard  the  arguments  of  White  Men  : 
they  are  a  fair  bait ;  but  their  intentions  are  a  bearded 
hook.  You  call  us  brothers,  but  you  treat  us  like  beasts  ; 
you  wish  to  trade  with  us,  that  you  may  cheat  us ;  you 
would  give  us  peace,  but  you  would  take  our  lands,  and 
leave  us  nothing  worth  fighting  for. 

W.  Man.  The  White  Men  want  your  lands ;  but 
they  are  willing  to  pay  for  them.  The  great  Parent 
has  given  the  earth  to  all  men  in  common  to  improve 
for  their  sustenance.  He  delights  in  the  numbers  of 
his  children.  If  any  have  a  superior  claim,  it  must  be 
those,  who,  by  their  arts  and  industry,  can  support  the 
greatest  number  on  the  smallest  territory. 

Ind.     This  is  the  way  you  talk ;  you  act  differently. 

You  have  good  on  your  tongue,  but  bad  in  your  heart. 

Y  2  I  have 


270  TJIE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

1  have  been  among  White  Men.  I  know  as  much  about 
them  as  you  do  about  Red  Men.  What  would  your 
people  say,  if  poor  men  should  go  to  a  rich  man,  and  tell 
hira,  the  great  Parent  has  given  the  earth  to  all  men  in 
common  ;  we  have  not  land  enough  ;  you  have  more 
than  you  need  ;  he  delights  in  the  number  of  his  chil- 
dren ;  your  great  farm  supports  but  few ;  by  our  supe- 
rior arts  and  industry,  it  would  support  many;  you 
may  move  to  one  corner  of  your  land  ;  that  is  sufficient 
for  you ;  we  will  take  the  rest.  We  will  live  together 
as  brothers,  if  you  will  be  at  peace  with  us  ;  if  not,  w^e^ 
have  more  warriors  than  you  ;  it  is  in  our  power  to  pun- 
ish the  aggressors.  Should  you  call  this  just  ?  No !  no ! 
W,  Man,     Surely  not. 

Lid.  Then  justice  among  White  Men  and  Red 
Men  is  different:  will  you  show  me  the  difference? 
I  thought  justice  was  our  friend  as  well  as  yours. 

IV,  Man,  We  are  governed  by  laws  that  protect 
eur  property,  and  punish  the  disturbers  of  peace. 

Ind,  Then  by  what  law  do  you  encroach  upon  our 
property,  and  disturb  oui-  peace  ?  If  you  consider  us  as 
your  brothers,  your  lav/s  ought  to  protect  us  as  well  as 
yourselves. 

W,  Man,  Our  ways  of  living  are  different  from 
yours.  We  have  many  employments  and  much  prop- 
erty :  your  manners  are  simple,  your  possessions  small ; 
our  laws,  of  course,  will  not  ypply  to  your  circumstances. 
hid,  I  know  you  have  many  laws  on  pnper,  and  some 
lhat  ought  to  make  the  paper  blush.  We  have  but  few  ; 
they  are  founded  in  justice,  and  written  on  the  heart. 
They  teach  us  to  treat  a  stranger  as  our  friend  ;  to  open 
eur  doors  and  spread  our  tables  to  the  needy.  If  a 
White  Man  come  among  us,  our  heart  is  in  our  hand ; 
all  we  have  is  his ;  yet  you  call  us  savages  !  But  that 
must  mean  something  better  than  civilized,  if  you  are 
civilized. 


W,  Man,  We  do  not  impeach  your  hospitality,  nor 
Crcnsure  your  humanity  in  many  instances ;  but  how- 
can  you  justify  your  promiscuous  slaughter  of  the  in 


nocertt 


I 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  271 

nocent  and  guilty,  your  cniel  massacres  of  helpless 
wives  and  children  wlio  never  injured  you  ? 

Ind,  If  a  man  provoke  me  to  tight  with  him,  I  will 
break  his  head  if  I  can  :  if  he  is  stronger  than  I,  then  I 
must  be  content  to  break  his  arm  or  his  finger.  When 
the  war-whoop  is  sounded,  and  v/e  take  up  the  toma- 
hawk, our  hearts  are  one ;  our  cause  is  common ;  the 
wives  and  children  of  our  enemies  are  our  enemies  also  ; 
they  have  the  same  blood,  and  we  have  the  same  thirst 
for  it.  If  you  wish  your  Vvives  and  children  should  es- 
cape our  vengeance,  be  honest  and  friendly  in  your 
dealings  with  us  ;  if  they  have  ruffians  for  their  pro- 
tectors, they  must  not  expect  safety. 

W.  Man.  We  have  both  the  same  claim  from  each 
other ;  friendship  and  justice  are  all  we  require.  Our 
ideas  on  these  subjects  are  ditTerent ;  perhaps  they  will 
never  agree.  On  one  side,  ferocity  will  not  be  dictated 
by  humanitv,  nor  stubbornness  by  reason  ;  on  the  other, 
knowledg;.  is  not  disposed  to  be  advised  by  ignorance, 
nor  power  lo  stoop  to  weakness. 

Ind,  I  believe  we  shall  not  make  peace  by  our 
talks.  If  the  contention  is,  who  has  the  most  humanity, 
let  him  who  made  us  judge.  Wo  have  no  pretensions 
to  sujicrior  knowledge ;  we  ask,  Who  knows  best  how 
to  use  what  they  have  ?  If  we  contend  for  power,  our 
arms  must  decide  :  the  leaves  must  wither  on  the  tree 
.of  peace ;  we  shall  cut  it  down  v/ith  the  battle  4  ';e, 
:;and  stain  the  green  grass  that  grov/s  under  it  with  your 
'lalood. 

W,  Man.  You  know  the  blessings  of  peace,  and  the 
calamities  of  war.  If  you  wish  to  live  secure  in  your 
wigwams,  and  to  rove  the  forest  unmolested,  cultivate 
our  friendship.  Break  not  into  our  houses  in  the  de- 
fenceless hours  of  sleep.  Let  no  more  of  our  inno- 
cent friends  be  dragged  from  their  protectors,  and  driven 
into  the  intiospitablc  wilderness  ;  or  what  is  still  more 
inhuman,  full  victims  to  your  unrelenting  barbarity ! 
i  f  you  prefer  war,  we  shall  drive  its  horrors  into  your 

own 


272  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

own  settlements.  The  sword  shall  destroy  your  friends, 
and  the  nre  consume  your  dwellings. 

Ind.  We  love  peace  ;  we  love  our  friends  ;  we  love 
ail  men,  as  much  as  you.  When  your  fathers  came 
over  the  big  water,  we  treated  them  as  brothers :  they 
had  nothing:  peace  and  plenty  were  among  us.  All 
the  land  was  ours,  from  the  cast  to  the  west  water; 
from  the  mountains  of  snow  in  the  north,  to  the  burn- 
ing path  of  the  sun  in  the  south.  They  were  made 
welcome  to  our  land  and  to  all  we  possessed.  To  talk 
like  ^Vhite  Men,  they  were  beggars,  and  we  their  ben- 
efactors :  they  were  tenants  at  will,  and  we  their  land- 
lords. But  we  nourished  a  viper  in  our  bosoms.  You 
have  poisoned  us  by  your  luxury  ;  spread  contention 
among  us  by  your  subtlety,  and  death  by  your  treach- 
ery. The  Indians  have  but  two  predominant  passions, 
friendship  and  revenge.  Deal  with  us  as  friends,  and 
you  may  fish  in  our  rivers  or  hunt  in  our  forests.  Treat 
us  not  like  servants  ;  v/e  shall  never  own  you  as  mas- 
ters. If  you  provoke  us,  our  vengeance  shall  pursue 
you.  We  shall  drink  your  blood  ;  you  may  spill  ours. 
We  had  rather  die  in  honorable  war,  than  live  in  dis- 
honorable peace. 


Extract  from  an    Oration,    pronounced  at  Bos- 
ton, July  4,   1796. 

rjpriAT  the  best  v/ay  for  a  great  empire  to  tax  her 
X  colonics  is  to  confer  benefits  upon  them,  and, 
that  no  rulei's  have  a  right  to  levy  contributions  upon 
the  propei'ty,  or  exact  the  services  of  their  subjects, 
without  their  own,  or  the  consent  of  their  immediate 
representatives,  were  principles  never  recognized  by 
the  mhiistry  and  parliament  of  Great-Britain.  Fatally 
enamoured  of  their  selfish  systems  of  policy,  and  obsti- 
nately determined  to  eflfect  the  execution  of  their  ne- 
farious purposes,  they  were  deaf  to  the  suggestions  of 
reason  and  the  demands  of  justice.   The  frantic,  though 

transient 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  Q73 

transient  energy  of  intoxicated  roj^e  was  exhibited  in 
their  very  act,  and  blackened  and  distorted  ihe  features 
of  their  national  character. 

On  the  contrary,  Americans  had  but  one  object  in 
view,  for  in  Independence  are  concentrated  and  con- 
densed every  blessing  that  makes  life  desirable,  every 
right  and  every  privilege  which  can  tend  to  the  hap- 
piness or  secure  the  native  dignity  of  man.  In  the  at- 
taifiment  of  Independence,  were  all  their  passions,  their 
desires,  and  their  powers  engaged.  The  intrepidity 
and  mngnanimity  of  their  armies;  the  wisdom  and  in- 
flexible  firmness  of  their  Congress  ;  the  ardency  of  their 
}-)atriotism  :  their  unrepining  })atience,  when  assailed 
by  dangers  and  perplexed  with  aggravated  misfortunes, 
have  long  and  deservedly  employed  the  pen  of  pane- 
gyric and  the  tongue  of  eulogy. 

Through  the  whole  revolutionary  conflict,  a  consist- 
ency and  systematic  regularity  were  preserved,  equally 
honorable  as  extraordinary.  The  unity  of  dej^ign  and 
classical  correct  arrangement  of  the  series  of  incidents, 
which  completed  the  Epic  story  of  American  Independ- 
ence, were  so  wonderful,  so  well  wrought,  that  political 
Hypercriticism  was  abashed  at  the  mighty  production, 
and  forced  to  join  her  sister  Envy,  in  applauding  the 
glorious  composition. 

It  is  my  pleasing  duty,  my  fellow-citizens,  to  felici- 
tate you  on  the  establishment  of  our  national  sovereign- 
ty ;  and  among  the  various  subjects  for  congratulation 
and  rejoicing,  this  is  not  the  most  unimportant,  that 
Heaven  ha^spared  so  many  vetei*ans  in  the  art  of  war  ; 
so  many  sages,  who  ^re  versed  in  the  best  politics  of 
peace  ;  men,  who  were  able  to  instruct  find  to  govern,  and 
whose  faithful  services,  whose  unremitted  exertions  to 
promote  the  public  prosperity,  entitle  them  to  our  firm- 
est confidence  and  warmest  gratitude.  Uuiling  in  the 
celebration  of  this  anniversary,  I  am  happy  to  behold 
many  of  the  illustrious  remnant  of  that  band  of  patriots, 
who,  despising  danger  and  death, determined  to  be  free, 
or  gloriously  perish  in  the  cause.     Their  countenances 

beam 


274  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

beam  inexpressible  delight  ?  our  joys  are  increaseid  by 
their  presence  ;  our  raptures  are  heightened  by  their 
participation.  The  feelings,  which  inspired  them  in; 
the  "  times  vvhich  fried  men's  souls,"  are  communicated 
to  our  bosoms.  We  catch  the  divine  spirit  which  im- 
pelled them  to  bid  defiance  to  the  congregated  host  of 
despots.  We  swear  to  preserve  the  blessings  they  toiled 
to  gain,  which  they  obtained  by  the  incessant  labours  of 
eight  distressful  years  ;  to  transmit  to  our  posterity, 
our  rights  undiminished,  our  honor  untarnished,  and 
our  freedom  unimpaired. 

On  the  last  page  of  Fate's  eventful  volume,  with  the 
raptured  ken  of  prophecy ,  1  behold  Columbia's  name  re- 
cprded  5  her  future  honors  and  happiness  inscribed.  In 
the  same  important  book  the  approaching  end  of  Ty- 
ranny and  the  triumph  of  Right  and  Justice  are  written 
in  indelible  characters.  Thestruggle  will  soon  be  over; 
the  tottering  thrones  of  despots  will  quickly  fall,  and- 
feury  their  proud  incumbents  in  their  massy  ruins  ! 

Then  peace  on  earth  shall  hold  her  easy  sway, 
And  man  forget  his  brother  man  to  slay. 
To  martial  arts,  shall  milder  arts  succeed ; 
Who  blesses  most,  shall  gain  th'  immortal  meed. 
The  eye  of  pity  shall  be  pain'd  no  more. 
With  Vict'ry's  crimson  banners  stain'd  with  gore. 
Thou  glorious  era,  come  I   Hail,  blessed  time  ! 
When  full-orb'd  Freedom  shall  unclouded  shine  ; 
When  the  chaste  Muses,  cherish'd  by  her  rays, 
In  olive  groves  shall  tune  their  sweetest  laj;s  ; 
When  bounteous  Ceres  shall  direct  her  car, 
O'er  fields  now  blasted  with  the^fires  of  war; 
And  angels  view,  with  joy  and  wonder  join'd, 
The  golden  ago  return'd  to  bless  mankind  ! 

Dialogue 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  275 

Dialogue  between  Edward  and  Ha'riiy. 

[Edward  alone,  reading.] 

Enter  Harry,  rvith  an  important  air* 

rr         IIIOW  ai^  you,  Ned? 

/irt?;-^.  J--|  Edward.  What,  is  it  you,  brother 
Harry  ?  Were  it  not  for  the  small  part  of  your  face, 
that  appears  between  your  fore-top  and  your  cravat,  I 
should  never  know  you. 

Har,  My  appearance  is  a  little  altered,  to  be  sure; 
but  I  hope  you  will  allow  it  is  for  the  better. 

Edic.  I  wish  I  could,  i  perceive,  that,  some  how 
or  other,  you  arc  completely  metamorphosed  from  a 
plain  country  lad,  to  a  Boston  buck,  beau,  or  fop : 
which  is  the  current  word  in  your  varyiiig  town  dia- 
lect, to  express  such  a  thing  as  yourself? 

Har,  Ah,  either  of  them  will  do.  The  young  la- 
dies sometimes  call  me  Tippy  Harry  ^  that  suits  my 
car  the  best. 

Edu\  That,  I  suppose,  means  a  liuh^  fop,  or,  as  I 
should  express  it,  afoppee,  who  is  obligcdto stand  tip- 
toe to  reach  a  lady  herf::^n.  ' 

Har.  One  of  your  clownish  blunders,  l<in}.  It 
means  an  airy  young  gentleman,  dressed  out  in  com- 
plete bon  ton  from  head  to  foot,  like  myself. 

Ediu.  "An  airy  young  gendcman,  dressed  out  in 
complete  bon  ton,  k'c.  &c."  This  definition  may  be  of 
service  to  me  ;  I  will  try  to  remoraber  it.  You  ahvay.^ 
possessed  one  quality  df  a  gentleman,  a  large  share  of 
goodliumour  :  i  hope  you  will  not  be  angry,  brother^ 
if  I  am  a  little  inquisitive. 

Har,  Do,  Ned,  leave  off  using  that  old-il^shioned 
word  :  I  had  rather  you  would  do  any  thing  to  nic  than 
brother  me  at  this  rate.  If  you  should  come  to 
Boston,  dressed  as  you  are  now,  with  your  clumsy 
shoes,  coarse  stockings,  great  small-clothes,  homc-spu a 


276  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

coat,  and=y<ror  old  rusty  go-to-mill  hat,  and  shake 
hands  with  'me,  in  your  awkward  way  ;  and  then,  to 
complete  the  whole,  should  call  me  brother,  I  should  be 
thunderstruck  !  For  my  credit's  sake,  I  should  swear 
it  was  some  crazy  straggler,  I  had  seen  in  the  country, 
and  given  a  few  coppers  to  keep  him  from  starving.  I 
would  hide  behind  the  counter,  or  lie  rolled  up  in  a 
piece  of  broadcloth  a  week,  rather  than  be  caught  in 
such  a  scrape. 

Edii},  An  airy  young  gentleman,  indeed!  would 
swear  to  half  a  dozen  lies,  hide  behind  the  counter, 
and  roll  yourself  up  in  a  piece  of  broadcloth  like  a  silk- 
worm, to  save  your  credit !  You  have  improved  much 
beyond  my  expectations,  Tippy  Harry!  This  sounds 
better  in  your  refined  ear  than  brother  Harry,  I  sup- 
pose. 

Har.  Yes  it  does,  Ned,  I'll  assure  you  :  that's  your 
sort!  You  begin  to  come  on  a  little.  Now  I'll  tell  you 
how  it  is,  Ned  ;  if  you*  would  take  your  old  musty  li- 
brary here,  and  lay  it  all  on  the  fire  together,  and  burn 
all  your  old-fashioned  clothes  with  it,  and  then  go  to 
Boston-^- — 

Edw.  What,  without  any  clothes,  Harry? 

Har.  Why,  I  think  I  should  about  as  lief  be  seen 
with  ys<:u  stark  naked,  as  with  your  coarst?,  narrow- 
backed,  short-waisted  coat.  But  as  I  was  saying  be- 
fore, then  put  yourself  under  the  care  of  a  tailor,  bar- 
ber, shoe-maker,  and  a  dancing  master ;  keep  a  store  of 
English  goods  about  three  months,  go  to  the  Theatre  a 
dozen  nights,  chat  with  our  Boston  Tippies,  have  a 
few  high  goes,  and  freeze  and  thaw  two  or  three 
times,  for  you  are  monstrously  stiff;  I  say,  after  ofl  this, 
I  believe,  Ned,  you  would  make  a  very  clevei*  fellow., 

Edw,  The  freezing  and  thawing  is  a  kind  of 
discipline  I  should  not  so  readily  com])ly  with.  I  have 
heard  of  several  of  your  clever  fellows,  and  ladies  of 
your  so7't,  who  were  found  frozen  in  old  barns,  and 
behind  board  fences;  but  I  never, kn.ew  they  were  so 
fortunate  as  to  thaw  again.     Now,  Harry,  I  will  be 

seriours 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     27? 

serious  with  you.  Your  airy  young  gentleman,  in  my 
opinion,  is  a  very  insipid  character :  far  ^Dcneath  my  am- 
bition. A  few  materials  from  behind  the  counter,  the 
tailor's  needle  and  shears,  the  barber's  puff  and  poma- 
tuni,  a  little  sheep-skin  modified  by  the  shoe-maker, 
and  what  is  the  most  insignificant  of  all,  a  little  supple, 
puny  machine,  that  in  plain  English,  1  should  call  a 
naked  fool ;  to  strut  about  the  streets  with  all  this  finery  5 
carry  it  to  the  theatre,  or  dancing  school ;  and  teach 
it  to  say  a  few  pretty  things  by  rote ;  these  make 
the  gentlemen  of  your  sort.  Mine  is  composed  of  quite 
different  materials. 

Har,  Pray  let  me  know  what  they  arc  :  home- 
spun, I  dare  say.  I  am  superfine,  you  see,  from,  head 
to  foot. 

Edzu,  Yes,  Harry,  you  have  blundered  into  one 
just  observation.  In  the  first  place,  I  would  lay  up  a 
good  store  of  knowledge,  home-spun  from  my  own  re- 
Hections,  reading  and  observation  ;  not  the  second- 
handed  smattering  of  the  most  ignorant  of  all  beings 
who  use  a  tongue.  The  tailor's,  barber's,  and  dancing- 
master's  bill  should  not  show  an  inventory  of  ail  I  pos- 
sessed. They  may  make  my  clothes,  dress  my  hair, 
and  teach  me  how  to  bow ;  but  there  must  be  some- 
thing more  to  command  the  bow  of  respect  from  people 
of  sense,  the  judges  of  real  merit.  In  short,  I  would  be 
a  gentleman  tarmer ;  too  well  informed  to  be  influenced 
by  your  railing  newspaper  politics  ;  too  much  delighted 
with  the  bleating  and  playing  of  the  flocks  in  my  own 
pasture,  to  read  the  head  of  Theatricals^  or  be  amused 
with  any  drove  of  sta^e-players,  that  have  infested  our 
country  from  Charleston  to  Portsmouth.  And  I 
should  be  much  more  proud  of  raising  one  likely  calf, 
than  as  many  of  the  most  insipid  of  all  animals,  called 
Tippies,  as  could  stand  in  every  shop  in  Cornhill. 

Z  Davit) 


S78  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR, 


David  and  Goliath. 


r  /■  fh     '\^7"^^''^^^  is  the  mighty  man  of  war,  who 
0  la    ,     yy    dares 

Accept  the  challenge  of  Philistia's  chief? 

What  victor  king,  what  gen'ral  drench'd  in  blood, 

Claims  this  high  privilege  ?  What  are  his  rights  ? 

What  proud  credentials  does  the  boaster  bring, 

To  prove  his  claim  '?  What  cities  laid  in  ashes, 

What  ruin'd  provinces,  what  slaughter'd  realms. 

What  heads  of  hei^oes,  and  what  hearts  of  kings. 

In  battle  kilPd,  or  at  his  altars  slain, 

Has  he  to  boast  ?  Is  his  bright  armoury 

Thick  set  with  spears,  and  swords,  and  coats  of  mail, 

Of  vanqnishM  nations,  by  his  single  arm 

Subdu'd  ?  W^here  is  the  mortal  man  so  bold, 

So  much  a  wretch,  so  out  of  love  wdth  life, 

To  dare  the  weight  of  this  uplifted  spear, 

Whiqh  never  fell  innoxious  ?  Yet  I  swear, 

I  grudge  the  glory  to  his  parting  soul 

To  fall  by  this  right  hand.     'Twill  sweeten -death, 

To  know  he  had  the  honor  to  contend 

With  the  dread  son  of  Anak.     Latest  time 

From  blank  oblivion  shall  retrieve  his  name, 

Who  dar'd  to  perish  in  unequal  fight 

W'ith  Gath's  triumphant  champion.     Come,  advance  ! 

Philistia's  gods  to  IsraePs.     Sound,  my  herald, 

Sound  for  the  battle  straight ! 

Dav,  Behold  thy  foe  ! 

GoL  I  see  him  not. 

Dav,  Behold  him  here  ! 

GoL  Say,  where  ! 
Direct  my  sight.     I  do  not  war  with  boys. 

Dav.  1  stand  prepar'd ;  thy  single  arm  to  mine^ 

GvL  WHiy,  this  is  mockery,  minion!  it  may  chance 
To  cost  thee  dear.  Sport  not  with  things  above  thee  : 
But  tell  me  who,  of  all  this  num'rous  host. 

Expects 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  21V 

ExpecL,-5  his  death  from  me?  Which  is  the  man, 
Whom  Israel  sends  to  meet  my  bold  defiance  ? 

Dav,     Th'  election  of  my  sov'reii^n  falls  on  me.       ^ 

GuL     On  thee!  on  thee  !  by  Dagon,  'tis  too  much  I 
Thou  curled  minion  !   thou  a  nation's  champion  ! 
'Twould  move  my  mirth  af  any  other  time ; 
But  trilling's  out  of  tune.     Begone,  light  boy  ! 
And  temj)tmc  not  too  f^ir. 

Dav,     I  do  defy  thee, 
Thou  foul  idolater!  Hast  thou  not  scorn'd 
The  armies  of  the  living  God  I  serve  ? 
By  me  he  will  avenge  upon  thy  head 
Thy  nation's  sins  and  thine.     Arm'd  with  his  name, 
Unshrinking,  I  dare  meet  the  stoutest  foe 
That  ever  bath'd  his  hostile  spear  in  blood. 

Gol,   Indeed  !  'tis  wondrous  well !  Now,  by  my  gods. 
The  stripling  plays  the  orator  !  Vain  boy  ! 
Keep  close  to  that  same  bloodless  v/ar  of  words. 
And  thou  shalt  still  be  safe.  Tongue-valiant  warrior  ! 
Where  is  thy  sylvan  crook,  with  garlands  hung, 
Of  idle  field-flowers  ?  Where  thy  wanton  harp, 
'Thou  dainty-fing'cr'd  hero  ?  Better  strike 
Its  note  lascivious,  or  the  lulling  lute 
Touch  softly,  than  provoke  the  trumpet's  rage. 
I  will  not  stain  the  honor  of  my  spear 
With  thy  inglorious  blood.     Shall  that  fair  check 
Be  scan-'d  with  wounds  unseemly  ?  Rather  go, 
And  hold  fond  dalliance  with  the  Syrian  maids  ; 
To  wanton  measures  dance  ;  and  let  them  braid 
The  bright  luxuriance  of  thy  golden  hair  ; 
They,  for  their  lost  Adonis,  may  mistake 
Thy  dainty  form. 

Darv,     I'cacp,  thou  unhallow'd  railer ! 
O  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  nor  let  the  sound 
Reach  Askelon,  how  once  your  slaughter'd  lords, 
By  mighty  Samson  found  one  common  grave  : 
When  his  broad  shoulder  the  firm  pillars  heav'd. 
And  to  its  base  the  tott'rinsr  fabric  shook. 

"  ■       Cot. 


280  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

GoL     Insulting  boy ;  perhaps  thou  hast  not  heard 
The  infamy  of  that  inglorious  day, 
When  your  weak  hosts  at  Eben-ezcr  pitch'd 
Their  quick-abandon'd  tents.     Then,  when  your  ark, 
Your  talisman,  your  charm,  your  boasted  pledge 
Of  safety  and  success,  was  tamely  lost ! 
And  yet  not  tamely,  since  by  me  'twas  won. 
When  with  this  good  right  arm,  I  thinn'd  your  ranks-, 
And  bravely  crush'd,  beneath  a  single  blow, 
The  chosen  guardians  of  this  vaunted  shrine, 
Hophni  and  Phineas.     The  fam'd  ari*  itself, 
I  bore  to  Ashdod. 

Dav,     I  remember  too, 
Since  thou  provok'st  th'  unwelcome  truth,  how  all 
Your  blushing  priests  beheld  their  idol's  shame  ; 
When  prostrate  Dagon  fell  before  the  ark. 
And  your  frail  god  was  shiver'd*     Then  Philistia, 
Idolatrous  Philistia  flew  for  succour 
To  Israel's  help,  and  all  her  smitten  nobles 
Confess'd  the  Lord  was  God,  and  the  blest  ark, 
Gladly,  with  reverential  awe  restor'd  ! 

Gol.     By  Ashdod's  fane  thou  ly'st.   Now  will  I  meet 
thee. 
Thou  insect  warrior !  since  thou  dar'st  me  thus ! 
Already  I  behold  thy  mangled  limbs, 
Dissever'd  each  from  each,  ere  long  to  feed 
The  fierce,  blood-snuffing  vulture.     Mark  me  well! 
Around  my  spear  I'll  twist  thy  shining  locks. 
And  toss  in  air  thy  head  all  gash'd  with  wounds ;, 
Thy  lips,  yet  quiv'ring  with  the  dire  convulsion 
Of  recent  death  !  Art  tliou  not  terrified  ? 

Dav,     No. 
True  courage  is  not  mov'd  by  breath  of  words  j 
But  the  rash  bravery  of  boiling  blood, 
fmpetuous,  knows  no  settled  principle. 
\  feverish  tide,  it  has  its  ebbs  and  flows. 
As  spirits  rise  or  fall,  as  wine  inflames, 
Or  circumstances  change.     But  inborn  courage, 
The  rc/i'rous  cliild  of  fortitude  and  Faith, 

Holds 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  231 

Holds  its  firm  empire  in  the  coHslant  soul ; 
And,  like  the  stedtast  pole-star,  never  once 
From  the  same  fixM  and  faithful  point  declines. 

GoL     The  cursCs  of  Philistia's  gods  be  en  thee ! 
This  fine-drawn  speech  is  meant  to  lengthen  out 
That  little  life  thy  words  pretend  to  scorn. 

Dav,     Ha!  says' t  thou  so?  Come  on  then!  Mark 
us  well. 
Thou  com'st  to  me  with  sword,  and  spear,  and  shield ! 
In  the  dread  name  of  Israel's  God,  I  come  ; 
The  living  Lorcf  of  Hosts,  whom  thou  defys't! 
Yet  though  no  shield  I  bring  ;  no  arms,  except 
These  live  smooth  stones  I  gathered  from  the  brook, 
With  such  a  simple  soling  as  shepherds  use  ; 
Yet  all  expos'd,  defenceless  as  I  am, 
The  God  1  serve  shall  give  thee  up  a  prey 
To  my  victorious  ami.     This  day  I  mean 
To  make  th'  un circumcised  tribes  confess 
There  is  a  God  in  Israel.     I  will  give  thee. 
Spite  of  thy  vaunted  strength  and  giant  bulk, 
To  glut  the  carrion  kites.     Nor  thee  alone  ; 
The  mangled  carcases  of  your  thick  hosts 
Shall  spread  the  plains  of  Elah;  till  Thilistia, 
Through  her  trembling  tents  and  flying  bands, 
Shall  own  that  Judah's  God  is  God  indeed ! 
1  dare  thee  to  the  trial ! 

GoL     Follow  me. 
In  this  good  spear  I  trust. 

Dav.     I  trust  in  Heaven  ! 
The  God  of  battles  stimulates  my  arm. 
And  fires  my  soul  with  ardour,  not  its  own. 


An  Oration  on  the  Powers  of  Eloquence,  writ- 
ten FOR  an  Exhibition  of  a  School  in  Boston*, 
1794. 

A  MIDST  the  profusion  of  interesting  and  brilliant 

XjLobjects  in  this  assembly,  should  the  speaker  be  able 

Z  2  to 


2S2  THE  COLUIVIBIAN  ORATOR. 

to  engage  the  aiieiition  of  a  few  eyes,  and  a  few  ears,  Ke 
will  esteem  his  reception  flattering.  To  another  is  al- 
lotted the  pleasing  task  of  closing  the  evening,  with  re- 
marks on  Female  Edueationr'*  It  i.;  mine  to  recommend 
the  POWERS  OF  ELOQUENCE,  and  to  show  the 
influence  which  it  justly  challenges,  over  the  senses, 
passions,  and  understandings  of  mankind. 

Eloquence  consists  in  a  capacity  of  expressing,  by  the 
Toice,  attitude,  gesture,  and  countenance,  the  emotions 
of  the  heart.  To  this  art,  Demosthenes  and  Cicero 
owe  their  immortality;  by  this,  the  tate  earl  of  Chat- 
ham gained  his  celebrity  ;  and  to  this,  are  the  great  pol- 
iticians, now  in  Europe,  indebted  for  their  distinction. 
Eloquent  men  begin  to  be  hear(^with  attention  in  our 
Congress;  pulpit  orators  gain  crowds,  and  eloquent 
lawyers  gain  causes. 

When  the  enlightened  Statesman  is  discussing  the 
interests  of  a  country,  on  which  are  grafted  his  for- 
tune, fame  and  life,  he  must  be  eloquent.  Wheri  the 
general  harangues  a  brave  soldiery,  at  the  eve  of  a  bat- 
tle, on  v^/hich  depend  their  liberties  and  lives,  he  must 
be  eloquent.  When  the  compassionate  lawyer,  with- 
out hope  of  reward,  advocates  the  cause  of  the  suffer^ 
ing  widow,  or  injured  orphan,  he  must  be  eloquent. 

But  when  true  Eloquence  is  introduced  into  the  sa- 
cred desk,  how  elevated  is  the  subject  of  the  passion  on 
the  cross  !  With  what  animating  7,eal  can  the  preacher 
call  on  his  hearers,  to  "  open  a  highway  for  their  God  V^ 
With  what  rapture  can  he  burst  from  the  gloom  of  types 
and  figures,  into  the  brightnessofthat  everlasting  Gospel 
which  brought  "  life  and  immortality  to  light  !*'  With 
what  heaven-taught  joy  can  he  hail  the  star  m  the  East ! 
and  with  what  semblance  of  reality  may  he  lead  the 
imaginations  of  his  audience  to  a  sight  of  th6  babe  in 
the  manger!  l(  he  feel  such  subjects,  he  must  be  elo- 
quent and  irresistible. 

May  we  now  look  back  and  trac6  the  progress  and 
nfluence  of  Eloquence  on  diiicrent  subjects,  and   at 

varipns 

'  %><;  American  PiTcep'or,  p.  47. 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  283 

various  pei'iods  ?  How  do  we  feel  its  power,  when  we 
hear  David  expressing  the  appearing  of  the  Highest ! 
"  He  bowed  the  heavens  also,  and  came  down,  and 
darkness  was  under  his  feet ;  he  rode  upon  a  cherub, 
and  did  fly,  and  he  was  seen  upon  the  wings  of  the 
wind."' 

Who  can  hear,  without  emotion,  the  sublime  elo- 
quence of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  when  he  announces  the 
future  glory  of  the  church  ?  "'  Violence  shall  no  more- 
be  heard  in  thy  land ;  wasting  nor  destruction  within 
(hy  borders :  but  thou  shalt  call  thy  walls  Salvation, 
and  thy  gates.  Praise. ''^ 

But  in  what  language  has  the  prophet  Habakkuk 
described  the  majesty  of  the  Creator?  "Before  him 
went  the  pestilence,  and  burning  coals  went  foilh  at 
his  feet :  he  stood,  and  measured  the  earth  :  he  beheld, 
and  drove  asunder  the  nations  :  the  everlasting  moun- 
tains were  scattered  :  the  perpetual  hills  did  bow  :  his 
ways  are  everlasting."  Let  us  pass  in  respectful  silence 
the  eloquence ofHim,who  "spake, as  neverman spake." 
But  our  attention  is  immediately  arrested  by  the  de- 
fence of  Paul  before  Agrippa  ;  in  which  he  describes  a 
light  from  heaven,  above  the  brightness  of  the  mid-day 
sun  ;  when  he  declares  his  conversion,  and  commission 
to  be  a  minister,  and  a  witness  of  those  things,  which 
he  had  seen,  and  of  those  things,  in  which  the  Saviour 
would  appear  unto  him.  "  Whereupon,"  says  he, 
"  O  king  Agrippa,  I  was  not  disobedient  unto  the  heav- 
enly vision." 

Nor  can  we  fail  to  mention  that  eloquence,  which 
made  Felix  tremble  on  his  throne.  Nor  can  we  read, 
unmoved,  Paul's  solemn  account  of  the  resurrection ; 
when,  "  In  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
the  dep^l  shall  be  raised,  and  we  shall  be  changed." 
But  when  we  come  to  the  vision  on  the  isle  of  Patmos, 
where  the  glory  of  heaven  was  unveiled  to  a  man  of 
God,  we  are  lost  in  the  majesty  and  sublimity  of  the 
description  of  things,  which  must  be  hereafter ;  and 
must  close  the  sacred  scriptures,  convinced  of  the  irre- 

sistiblf 


284  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

sistible  Powers  of  Eloquence,  when  employed  u/- jn  di 
vine  subjects. 

Among  themes  less  interesting,  is  there  one,  on 
w^hich  these  powers  have  been  unsuccessfully  employed  / 
We  read  how  the  eloquence  of  one  man  governed  all 
hearts  in  Greece,  and  how  astonishing  was  its  effect 
from  the  immortal  Orator  at  Rome.  All  civilized  na- 
tions can  furnish  facts  and  arguments  on  this  subject. 
Wherever  arts  and  sciences  have  found  a  residence, 
oratory  has  been  a  sure  attendant. 

I  am  obliged  to  pass,  with  regret,  the  characters 
of  D'Espremenil,  Mirabeau,  Burke,  Fox,  Flood,  and 
Grattan,  who,  wdthin  our  own  days,  have  made  the 
Senates  of  three  diifcrent  kingdoms  ring  with  their 
eloquence.  With  greater  reluctance  must  I  pass  the 
memorable  time,  Vvhen  all  the  senses,  passions^and  al- 
most breath  of  five  thousand  people  were  suspended 
at  the  admirable  eloquence  of  Sheridan,  while  he  de- 
scribed the  cruelties  of  Hastings  on  the  banks  of  the  Gan- 
ges ;  when  with  unfeeling  madness  that  despot  redden- 
ed the  waters  with  the  blood  of  mothers  and  their  in- 
fants, and  made  even  the  river  blush  for  the  honor  of 
the  British  name. 

With  pleasure  I  bring  my  subject  to  the  scenes  of  my 
native  country  ;  and  here  could,  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  Columbus  in  his  vision,  present  before  you  the  lofty 
Andes,  the  majestic  Mississippi,  the  beautiful  Ohio,  the 
falls  of  Niagara,  and  the  lakes  of  the  north.  I  might 
take  a  view  of  this  country,  extending  through  the 
five  zones,  comprehending  all  the  climates,  and  pro- 
ducing all  the  varieties^of  the  earth. 

Our  ears  have  heard  what  wonders  have  been 
wrought  in  l)nited  America.  Our  eyes  see  its  pres- 
ent happy  situation.  After  many  toils  and  con  /».ilsions, 
we  at  length  find  ourselves  safe  on  the  top  of  Nebo, 
and  our  Moses  yet  alive  at  the  head  of  our  rulers. 
Hence  we  look  forward  to  the  flattering  prospects  of 
futurity.  Our  orators  and  poets  have  announced  bless- 
ed things   in    the   latter  days.     Our  prophets  have 

taught 


TIIE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  285 

taught  us  to  expect  the  reality  of  golden  dreams.  The 
leaves  of  our  future  history  arc  gilded,  and  the  pages 
are  left  to  be  filled  up,  with  the  actions  of  a  long  list 
•f  unamhitioxis  Cesars^ 

We  are  tokl^  that  on  this  our  native  spot  of  earth, 
slavish  government  and  slavish  hierarchies  shall  cease  ; 
that  here,  the  old  prophecies^  shall  be  veriiicd  ;  that 
here  shall  be  the  last,  universal  empire  on  earth,  the 
empire  of  reason  and  virtue  ;  under  which  the  gospel 
-ef  peace  shall  have  free  course  and  be  glorified;  that 
here  ''  the  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the  leop- 
ard wiih  the  kid,  and  that  nation  shall  no  more  lift  up 
sword  against  nation." 

When  the  philosopher  of  the  East  foresaw  the  beauty 
and  excellence  of  this  Western  Continent,  its  immense 
rivers,  lakes,  and  mountains  ;  cities  rising  from  the 
midst  of  desolation  ;  '=  men  like  trees  walking,"  where 
•nee  were  the  haunts  of  savage  beasts  :  arts  and  man- 
ners improving  ;  the  rose  budding  in  the  desert,  and 
the  flowers  of  the  garden  in  the  solitary  place,  rich  in- 
deed was  the  prospect.  But  his  visions  have  become 
9ur  realities.  We  live  to  enjoy  blessings,  more  numer- 
ous than  Columbus  could  count. 

We  see  schools,  academies,  and  colleges,  opening 
their  treasures  to  every  family  ;  and  are  taught,  that 
religion,  liberty,  and  science,  are  constellations  in  the 
heavens,  w^hich,  amidst  the  revolution  of  empires,  visit 
in  succession,  all  the  kingdoms  and  pro]>le  of  the  earth. 
We  see  one  half  of  the  world  involved  in  darkness, 
and  oblivious  sleep  ;  while  the  other  is  enjoying  the 
blessings  of  day,  and  of  visiilant  industry. 

The  day  of  American  glory  has  at  length  dawned. 
No  more  shall  meteors  of  the  air,  and  insects  w  ith  gild- 
ed wings,  lead  astray  the  benighted  traveller,  nor  the 
bleaking  buzzords  of  the  night  triumph  over  the  bird  of 
Jove.  Prejudice,  ignorance,  and  tyranny,  arc  flying 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind.  While  this  day  is  ours,  let 
us  be  up  and  doing. 

May 


^2Q6  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

May  I  now  introduce  my  subject  within  these  walls  ? 
And  hei^e,  how  extensive  is  the  theme  for  my  feeble 
powers  of  Eloquence  !  yet  may  I  employ  them,  in  sug- 
gesting the  motives  which  your  sons  and  daughters  have 
to  cultivate  their  minds.  Gratitude  to  their  parents  ; 
your  patrona2;e  ;  their  own  ambition  ;  their  prospects 
of  future"  profit,  usefulness,  and  honest  fame,  are  among 
the  first. 

But  highly  important  is  rendered  this  morning  of 
life  and  privilege  to  us,  from  a  consideration,  that  we 
are  born  in  the  best  of  countries,  at  the  best  of  times. 
While  some  of  the  human  race  arc  suffering  the  ex- 
treme heats  of  burning  zones,  and  others  are  freezing 
beyond  the  influence  of  benignant  rays,  we  live  in  a 
climate,  temperate,  salubrious,  and  healthful.  While 
some, inherit  from  their  parents  poverty  and  slavery, 
we  are  the  heirs  of  private,  public,  and  social  benefits. 

Our  eyes  have  been  opened  in  a  country,  where  the 
Fatherof  mercies  has  been  pleased  to  condense  his  bless- 
ings. On  us  beam,s  the  sun  of  Science  :  ours  is  the 
hemisphere  of  Freedom :  here  are  enjoyed  THE 
RIGHTS  OF  MAN  ;  and  upon  us  shine,  with  ceaseless 
splendour,  the  rays  of  the  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM. 

Blest  in  the  dispensations  of  nature,  providence,  and 
grace,  on  us  depends  a  faithful  improvement  of  our  nu- 
merous talents.  Early  taught  the  shortness  and  value 
of  life,  and  the  importance  of  improving  each  hour  of 
youth,  while  we  have  leisure,  and  the  assistance  of  in- 
structors, we  early  learn  to  be  diligent.  Observing, 
that  with  our  parents,  the  shadows  of  the  evening  be- 
gin to  lengthen,  and  that  soon  the  wheel  will  cease  to 
turn  round  at  the  cistern  ;  that  soon  they  must  leave  us, 
and  that  we  must  fill  their  places,  we  learn  to  be  am- 
bitious and  emulous  to  excel.  But  beyond  these,  we 
have,  with  all  other  children  of  the  universe,  an  argu- 
ment still  higher  to  improve  these  precious^days.  We 
live  not  only  for  ourselves,  for  our  parents,  friends,  and 
country  ;  but  for  the  Giver  of  life  :  we  live  for  immor- 
tality.    Young  as  wc  are,  and  just  entered  the  bark  of 

being  ; 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  287 

beino; ;  yet  like  you,  we  are  on  a  boundless  ocean,  and 
an  eternal  voyage. 

As  ELOQUENCE  is  my  theme,  perhaps  I  may  be 
indulged  in  dwelling  for  the  few  remaining  moments, 
on  this  last  most  interesting  subject.  While  enjoying 
the  blessings  of  health,  and  the  festivities  of  youth,  we 
stand  on  this  bridge  of  life,  careless  of  the  rapid  cur- 
rents of  yesterdays  and  to-morrows;  yet  rellection 
teaches  that  the  hour  is  rapidly  hastening,  when  "  the 
cloud-capt  towers  ;  the  gorgeous  palaces  ;  the  solemn 
temples  ;  yea,  the  great  globe  itself,  with  all  which  it 
inherits,  shall  dissolve,  and  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a 
vision,  leave  not  a  reck  behind."     We  shall  survive. 

Though  the  loss  of  parents  and  friends  ;  though  the 
frequent  infirmities  and  vicissitudes  of  life,  teach  us 
gloomily  to  reflect,  that  *'  An  angel's  arm  can't  snatch 
us  from  the  grave  ;"  yet  a  sure  prospect  of  a  resurrec- 
tion to  ceaseless  life,  bids  us  say  with  triumph,  "Legions 
of  angels  can't  confine  us  there."  We  look  back  on 
the  ages  which  have  passed,  and  see  the  millions  of  men, 
who,  since  the  days  of  Adam,  have  been  laid  in  the 
dust.  W^e  see  nine  hundred  and  fifty  millions  of  ra- 
tional beings,  now  in  full  life,  who  must,  in  a  few  years, 
be  cold  and  in  death ;  and  in  every  day  of  our  lives, 
no  less  than  eighty-six  thousand  of  the  human  race, 
are  laid  in  the  grave.  What  oceans  of  tears  have  been 
shed  by  surviving  friendg  I 

How  have  mourning,  lamentation,  and  woe  been 
heard  not  only  in  Rama,  but  throughout  every  quar- 
ter of  the  inhabited  earth  !  We  contemplate  the  time, 
when  these  bodies  of  ours,  now  full  of  life  and  motion, 
shall  be  cold.  We  elevate  eur  thoughts  to  that  scene, 
when  the  elements  shall  melt  with  fervent  heat  ;  when 
the  sun  shall  be  darkened,  and  the  moon  no  more  give 
light :  when  the  stars  of  heaven  shall  fall  from  their 
places,  and  all  nature  be  tumbling  into  iiiins. 

Then  the  trump  of  God  shall  sound  ;  then  shall  he, 
who  once  said,  "  Lazarus,  come  forth,"  descend 
from  heaven,  with  a  mighty  shout.     Then,  shall  the 

dead 


288  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

dead  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God ;  then  shall  they 
"burst  the  bands  of  death,  and  rise,  never  to  sleep  again. 
Then  shall  this  mortal  put  on  immortality,  and  death 
be  swallowed  up  of  life. 

We  shall  be  present  at  this  august  resurrection]  Soon 
shall  we  cease  to  see  the  blue  canopy  of  the  day,  and 
the  starred  curtain  of  the  night ;  to  hear  the  rolling  of 
the  thunder,  or  see  the  lightning  of  the  heavens; 
scenes,  which  now  impress  us  with  awe  and  delight. 
We  look  round  creation,  and  see  all  living  nature,  be- 
low our  rank,  dissolving  to  dust ;  never  to  revive.  We 
see  -the  flowers  of  spring  die,  and  the  leaves  of  autumn 
fade  ;  never  to  resume  their  beauty  and  verdure.  But 
contemplating  the  soul  of' man,  we  are  led  to  the  lan- 
guage of  the  poet, 

'•  See  truth,  love,  and  mercy  in  triumph  descending, 
And  nature  all  glowing  in  Eden's  first  bloom, 

On  the  cold  cheek  of  death  smiles  and  roses  are  blending, 
And  beauty  immortal  awakes  from  the  tomb." 

This  subject,  itself  so  full  of  Eloquence,  is  also  full  of 
instruction  and  argument.  Whatever  elevates  the  dig- 
nity of  our  natures,  and  extends  our  views,  teaches  us 
to  live  ;  daily  to  improve  our  minds  ;  daily  to  better  our 
hearts.  May  ELOQUENCE  ever  be  improved  in  the 
cause  of  learning  and  virtue ;  ever  employed  in  ad- 
dressing important  truths  to  the  mind,  inja  most  forcible 
2nd  expressive  manner. 

May  the  daughters  of  America  wear  their  charms, 
as  attendants  on  their  virtue,  the  satellites  of  their  in- 
nocence, and  the  ornament  of  their  sex.  May  her 
sons  early  learn  the  principles  of  honor,  honesty,  dili- 
gence, and  patriotism  ;  and  when  called  to  leave  these 
happy  seats,  where  care  is  a  stranger,  and  where  learn- 
ing is  a  free  gift,  be  prepared  for  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day,  and  ever  prove  as  a  munition  of  rocks  to 
their  country. 

A  Dialogue 


i 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  289 


A    DlALOffUfi    BETWEEN    A    ClTY    GeNTLEMAN    OF    THE 

Tox,  AND  A  Country  Farmer. 

n    *i  TTALLOO!      there,     Master!      What 

J-  A  have  you  got  m  your  wallet  r 

Farmer,  Fowls,  Sir,  at  your  service. 

Gent,  And  what  do  you  ask  a  pair  ?  • 

Farm,  Fifty  cents  a  pair  for  ducks,  and  seventy-five 
cents  apiece  for  geese  and  turkeys. 

Gent,  What  is  the  fellow  talking  about  ?  I  inquired 
the  price  of  fowls  ;  not  of  geese  and  turkeys. 

Farm,  And  pray,  Mister,  what  is  the  difference 
between  a  fowl  and  a  goose  ?  My  bible  teaches  me, 
that  all  the  feathered  tribe  are  ranged  under  the  gen- 
eral name  of  fowl. 

Gent,  Why,  you  numskull!  don't  quote  scripture 
to  me,  to  prove  such  palpable  absurdities.  I  can  teach 
you,  that  a  goose,  or  turkey,  is  no  more  like  a  fowl, 
than  a  human  being  is  like  one  of  the  animal  creation  ! 

Farm,  I  crave  your  pardon,  Mister.  I  begin  to 
see  that  I  never  was  larn'd  the  right  use  of  language  ; 
for,  since  I  come  among  these  fine  gentlefolks,  1  don't 
understand  one  half  that's  said  to  me. 

Gent,  So  it  seems.  However,  you  have  now  en- 
tered a  good  scliool  to  learn  civilization.  What  I 
wanted,  Wc^s,  a  pair  of  those  creatchures  that  lay  eggs, 
wulgarly  cd lied  hens. 

Farm,  Vvhy,  begging  your  pardon,  Sir,  Jind  ho- 
ping no  oflence,  I  should  suppose,  that,  at  least,  one  of 
the  sorts  ]  ha\^e  in  ni)^  wallet  lays  eggs,  from  the  mul- 
titude of  croslins  T  see  about  your  streets. 

Gent,  Why,  you  fool ;  where  were  you  bred  ?  I 
should  imagine  }^ou  come  fifty  miles  off,  where  they 
tell  me  the  people  are  almost  savages  ;  and  that  you 
were  never  in  market  before. 

Farm,  It  is  true,  1  live  more  than  fifty  miles  off, 

and  never  was  in  this'  great  city  before ;  and  in  fact,  I 

A  a  begin 


290  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     - 

begin  to  think  I  never  shall  desire  to  be  again  ;  for  I 
have  hitherto  met  with  pretty  rough  handling,  1  assure 
you. 

Gent,  No  wonder  that  such  ignorance  should  ex- 
pose you  to  insults.  A  man  like  you,  who  has  been 
brung  up  among  savages,  and  not  able  to  speak  inteU 
ligibly,  must  expect  to  receive  severe  discipline,  when 
he  first  visits  a  land  of  civilizatiois. 

Farm.  I  begin  to  see  vrhat  a  sad  thing  it  is,  espe- 
cially in  such  a  place  as  this,  to  be  so  destitute  as  I  am 
of  the  right  kind  of  laming.  I  confess,  that,  so  far 
from  civilization,  T  have  never  received  but  little  more 
than  christianization.  But  I  should  think,  even  that 
ought  to  entitle  an  honest,  well-meaning  man  to  bet- 
ter treatment  than  I  have  met  with  this  morning. 

Gent,  You  have  no  right  to  complain.  Such  a 
blundering  blockhead  as  you  are  ought  to  think  him* 
self  fortchunate,  if  he  is  suffered  to  pass  the  streets  with- 
out having  his  head  broke. 

Farm,  Indeed,  I  have  hardly  escaped  that.  I  have 
been  accosted  a  hundred  and  fifty  times  since  I  entered 
the  big  town,  by  all  sorts  and  sizes  of  folks,  boch  male 
and  female.  Which,  at  first,  indeed,  appeared  civil 
enough  ;  for  not  a  child  in  the  street  but  what  ma^- 
ter'^d  me,  as  mannerly  as  though  I  had  teach'd  school 
all  my  days.  But  whenever  I  approached  them,  it 
was  old  daddy,  old  man,  old  fellow,  and  so  on  ;  rising 
by  degrees  to  such  genteel  language  as  your  "Worship 
seems  to  be  master  of.  1  hope  no  offence.  Sir.  The 
first  time  1  had  the  honor  to  be  noticed,  a  fine  gentle- 
woman called  to  me  from  her  window.  So  I  civilly 
entered  her  door  ;  when  she  squalled  out,  "  You  filthy 
brute  !  Have  you  die  impudence  to  come  in  at  my 
front  door  ?"  Did  you  not  call  me,  madam  ?  replied  I. 
Yes,  truly,  says  she  ;  but  I  thought  you  had  more  civ- 
ilization,  than  to  set  your  ugly,  square  toed  shoes  upon 
my  carpet.  I  craved  her  ladyship's  pardon  ;  told  her 
I  hope4  I  should  learn  ^iYdizaiion  from  such  good  ex- 
ample J  ar;cl  got  off  as  wel!  as  I  could. 

Gent, 


THE  COLUiVIBIAxX  ORATOR,  231 

Gent,     It  is  evident  you  know  nothing  of  the  world. 
Fann,     How  sliould  I,  since  I  live  n  hundred  miles 
oiT,  and  never  read  scarcely  any  thing  but  my  bible  and 
psalm  book  ? 

Gent.  Aye,  sure  enough.  You  arc  much  to  be  pit- 
ied. Why,  according  to  the  rules  of  civilization,  you 
ollcnded  the  lady  insufferably. 

Farm,  So  I  perceive  ;  though,  at  first,  I  could  not 
conceive,  for  the  life  of  me,  what  harm  there  could  be 
in  entering  the  front  door,  since  there  was  no  other 
in  the  house  ;  nor  how  my  shoes  could  give  offence,  in- 
asmuch as  they  were  perfectly  clean. 

Gent.  Why,  did  you  not  just  acknowledge  they 
were  unfashionable  ? 

Farm,  Aye,  right.  And  mayhap  she  discovered 
the  nails  m  the  heels ;  though  I  could  have  assured 
her  they  would  not  scratch ;  for  they  were  well  drove, 
and  the  heads  smooth.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  soon 
after  I  escaped  from  her  ladyship's  civilities,  I  was  stop- 
ped by  a  'Squire-Jooking  gentleman,  whose  palate  was 
set  for  the  same  dainty  that  yours  was,  fowls.  I  told 
hira  I  had  as  fine  ones  as  ever  were  hatched.  So  I 
shewed  him  the  whole  contents  of  my  wallet ;  when, 
after  examining  it  critically,  he  exclaimed,  *'  You 
insulting  puppy !  1  have  a  mind  in  my  conscience  to 
cane  you.  What,  sirrah !  tell  me  you  have  fowls  to 
sell,  when  you  have  nothing  but  a  parcel  of  poultry !" 
So,  giving  me  a  kick  or  two,  he  tells  me  to  go  and 
leaiTi  civilization, 

I  Gent.  And  served  you  right  enough  too. 
I  Farm,  So  as  I  proceeded  peaceably  through  the 
street,  I  met  a  stripling,  in  his  soldier's  coat,  making 
the  same  use  of  his  sword  as  I  did  of  my  staff.  Having 
a  heavy  load,  and  tripping  my  fool  a  little,  I  unfortu- 
nately jostled  this  beardless  hero.  "What  do  you 
mean,  you  dirty  scoundrel!"  he  instantly  exclaimed  ; 
Jifting  up  his  sword  at  the  same  lime.  *'  Have  you  no 
more  civilization  than  to  treat  an  oflicer  of  the  navy  in 
such  a  rude  manner  ?"    I  beg  j)ardon,  says  I.     It  was 

purely 


292  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

purely  an  accident.  If  you  were  not  beneath  my  no- 
tice, says  he,  swearing  a  big  oath,  which  I  dare  not  re- 
peat ;  if  you  were  not  beneath  the  notice  of  a  gentle- 
man, I  say,  I  would  soon  lay  you  upon  your  beam  ends, 
you  fresh  water  lobster!  You  are  as  destitute  of  civiliza- 
tion, as  if  you  had  never  been  out  of  sight  of  land  in  all 
your  life. 

Gent,  You  will  learn  in  time  to  keep  at  a  respect- 
till  distance  from  gentlemen  of  the  sword.  It  is  fort- 
chunate  for  you,  that  the  officer  did  not  make  daylight 
shine  through  you. 

Farm.  I  believe  it  dangerous,  I  confess,  to  ven- 
ture very  near  gentlemen^  if  these  may  be  called  such. 
Well,  the  next  person  I  met,  I  took,  from  his  brogue, 
to  be  a  **  wild  Irishman."  At  any  rate,  he  was  a  fun- 
ny fellow,  and  discovered  some  marks  of  civilization, 
Maister,  says  he,  have  you  any  wery  good  weal  in 
your  vallet?  I  do  not  understand  Irish,  Mister,  replied 
i.  Irish!  Irish!  old  mutton-head,  said  he;  nor  I 
neither.  It  is  enough  for  me  that  I  am  able  to  speak 
good  English.  I  axM  you  what  you  had  to  sell.  I 
am  fitting  out  a  wessel  for  Wenice  ;  loading  her  with 
warious  keinds  of  prowisions,  and  wittualling  her  for  a 
long  woyage ;  and.  I  want  several  undred  weight  of 
weal,  wenison,  &c.  with  a  plenty  of  inyons  and  win- 
egar,  for  the  preserwation  of  ealth.  I  assured  him  I 
did  not  comprehend  his  meaning.  It  is  wery  nat- 
chural,  replied  he,  to  suppose  it,  as  you  are  but  a  poor 
countryman  and  want  civilization.  So  he  peaceably 
withdrew.  And>  now,  good  Mister,  ^Squire,  per- 
haps I  ought  to  say ;  for,  before  you  stopped  me,  I 
heard  you  administering  oaths ;)  I  say  good  'Squire, 
as  you  have  condescended  to  give  me  some  useful  in- 
struction, pray  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me,  to  what  spe- 
cies of  animals  a  creature  v/ould  belong,  which  should 
be,  in  every  respect,  exactly  like  yourself,  excepting 
the  addition  of  a  pair  of  long  ears  ? 

Gent.     I  will  not  disgrace  my.self  by  keeping  your 
company  any  long^jr.     [Exit,] 

Farm, 


THE  COLUMBIAiNi  Ox^ATOR.  293 

Farm,  [aloneJ]  What  a  strange  run  of  luck  I  have 
had  to-day  •'  If  this  is  civilization,  I  desire  to  return 
to  my  savage  haunt  again.  However,  I  don't  despair 
yet  of  meeting  with  people  of  real  civilization  ;  for  I 
have  always  been  told  that  this  place  is  not  without 
its  share.  Yet  I  fear  they  have  greatly  degenerated 
from  the  simple  manners  of  their  forefathers.  Their 
placing  mere  civility  above  Christianity  is  a  plain  proof 
of  it.  The  ancestors  of  this  people  were  anxious 
mainly  to  teach  their  posterity  Christianity,  not  doubt- 
ing but  civility  would  naturally  attend  it.  What  vexes 
me  most  is,  that  I  can't  understand  their  language. 
For  my  part,  I  think  they  have  but  little  reason  to 
'laugh  at  my  pronunciation.  This  is  the  first  time  I 
ever  haird  that  turkeys,  geese,  and  ducks  were  not 
fowls.  They  might  as  well  tell  me,  that  oxen,  bulls, 
and  cows  are  not  cattle.  1  take  this  last  chap  to  be  of 
the  race  of  coxcombs  ;  and  I  think  it  is  sometimes  best, 
to  indulge  them  in  their  own  exalted  opinion  of  them- 
selves, till  experience  teaches  them  their  folly.  I 
know  I  am  but  a  plain  man ;  and  no  one  feels  the 
want  of  larning  more  than  I  do.  But  I  am  certain  I 
cannot  appear  more  contemptible  in  this  coxcomb's 
eyes,  than  he  does  in  mine. 


Extract  from  a  Discourse  delivered  before  the 
New- York  Society  for  promoting  the  Manu- 
mission OF  Slaves,  April  12,  1797.  By  Rev. 
Samuel  Miller. 

I  HAVE  hitherto  confined  myself  to  the  considera- 
tion of  slavery  as  it  exists  among  ourselves,  and  of 
that  unjust  domination  which  is  exercised  over  the  Af- 
ricans and  their  descendants,  who  are  already  in  our 
country.  It  is  with  a  regret  and  indignation  which  I 
am  unable  to  express,  that  1  call  your  attention  to  the 
conduct  of  some  among  us,  who,  instead  of  diminishing, 
strive  to  increase  the  evil  in  question. 

A  a  2  While 


:294  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

While  the  friends  of  humanity,  in  Europe  and 
America,  are  weeping  over  their  injured  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  directing  their  ingenuity  and  their  labors  to 
the  removal  of  so  disgraceful  a  monument  of  cruelty 
and  avarice,  there  are  not  wanting  men,  who  claim  the 
title,  and  enjoy  the  privileges  of  American  citizens, 
who  still  employ  themselves  in  the  odious  traffic  of  hu^ 
man  flesh. 

Yes,  in  direct  opposition  to  public  sentiment,  and  a 
law  of  the  land,  there  are  ships  fitted  out,  every  year, 
in  the  ports  of  the  United  States,  to  transport  the  in- 
habitants of  Africa,  from  their  native  shores,  and  con- 
sign them  to  all  the  torments  of  West-India  oppression. 

Fellow  citizens  !  is  Justice  asleep  ?  Is  Humanity  dis- 
couraged and  silent,  on  account  of  the  many  injuries 
she  has  sustained  ?  Were  not  this  the  case,  methinks 
the  pursuit  of  the  beasts  of  the  forest  would  be  forgot- 
ten, and  such  monsters  of  wickedness  would,  in  their 
stead,  be  hunted  from  the  abodes  of  men. 

Oh  Africa  !  unhappy,  ill-fated  region !  how  long 
shall  thy  savage  inhabitants  have  reason  to  utter  com- 
plaints, and  to  imprecate  the  vengeance  of  Heaven 
against  civilization  and  Christianity  ?  Is  it  not  enough 
that  nature's  God  has  consigned  thee  to  arid  plains,  to 
noxious  vapours,  to  devouring  beasts  of  prey,  and  to 
all  the  scorching  influences  of  the  torrid  zone  ?  Must 
rapine  and  violence,  captivity  and  slavery,  be  superad- 
ded to  thy  torments  ;  and  be  inflicted  too  by  men,  who 
wear  the  garb  of  justice  and  humanity  ;  who  boast  the 
jirinciples  of  a  sublime  morality ;  and  who  hypocrit- 
ically adopt  the  accents  of  the  benevolent  religion  of 
Jesus  ? 

Oh  Africa  !  thou  loud  proclaimer  of  the  rapacity, 
the  treachery,  and  cruelty  of  civilized  man !  Thou 
everlasting  monument  of  European  and  American  dis- 
grace !  "  Remember  not  against  us  our  offences,  nor 
the  offences  of  our  forefathers  ;  be  tender  in  the  great 
day  of  inquiry  ;  and  show  a  Christian  world,  that  thou 
canst  suffer  and  forgive  !" 

A   FORENSIQ 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.  29o 

A  Forensic  Dispute,  on  the  Question,  Are  the 
Anglo-A^iericans  endowed  with  CapacitV  anp 
Genius  equal  to  Europeans  ? 

J,  1\ /TY  opinion  is  decidedly  on  the  affirmative  oi 

'  i.VA  this  question.  In  this  opinion  I  am  con- 
firmed by  sound  argument  and  undeniable  facts. 

If  nature  has  lavished  her  favours  on  some  countries, 
and  dealt  them  out  with  a  sparing  hand  in  others,  the 
Western  world  is  far  from  being  the  scene  of  her  par- 
simony. From  a  geographical  survey  of  our  country, 
directly  the  reverse  will  appear. 

This  continent,  extending  through  all  the  different 
climates  of  the  earth,  exhibiting  on  its  immense  sur- 
face the  largest  rivers  and  lakes,  and  the  loftiest  moun- 
tains ii\  the  known  world,  shews  us  that  nature  has 
wrought  on  her  largest  scale  on  this  side  the  Atlantic. 

The  soil  is  neither  so  luxuriant  as  to  indulge  in 
sloth,  nor  so  barren,  as  not  to  afford  sufficient  leisure 
from  its  own  culture,  to  attend  to  that  of  the  mind. 
These  are  facts,  which  existed  before  the  migration  of 
our  ancestors  from  Europe.  The  argument  I  shall 
deduce  from  them,  to  me  appears  conclusive. 

The  soil  and  climate  of  every  country  is  in  some 
measure  characteristic  of  the  genius  of  its  inhabitants. 
I^ature  is  uniform  in  her  works.  Where  she  has  stint- 
ed the  productions  of  the  earth,  she  also  cramps  her  ani- 
mal productions  ;  and  even  the  mind  of  man.  Where 
she  has  clothed  the  earth  with  plenty,  there  is  no  de- 
ficiency in  the  animate  creation ;  and  man  arrives  to 
his  full  vigour. 

In  the  application  of  these  physical  causes  to  our  na- 
ture, there  is  an  effect  produced  on  the  mind,  as  well 
as  tjie  body.  The  mind  receives  its  tincture  from  the 
objects  which  it  contemplates.  This  we  tind  confirm- 
ed by  the  opposite  sensations  we  feel,  when  viewing  a 
beautiful  and  variegated  landscape,  and  plodding  our 

course 


296  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.: 

course  over  a  craggy  way,  or  uniform,  barren  plain.; 
In  these  contrasted  situations,  it  may  almost  be  said, 
that  we  possess  two  different  souls,  and  are  not  the 
same  beings. 

Those  objects,  which  constantly  surround  us,  must 
have  a  more  permanent  eifect.  Where  man  is  doomed 
constantly  to  view  the  imperfect  sketches  and  carica- 
ture paintings  of  nature,  he  forms  a  con'esponding  part 
of  the  group  ;  when  placed  amidst  her  most  beautiful 
rmd  magnificent  works,  we  find  him  elevated  in  thought 
and  complete  in  corporal  stature^ 

These  arguments  may  seem  far-fetched ;  but  when 
it  is  admitted  that  Ghimborazo  is  higher  than  Tenc- 
riffe  ;  the  Amazon  and  La  Plata  superiour  to  the  largest 
rivers  in  the  old  world ;  and  that  America  abounds 
with  all  the  productions  of  nature  in  as  great  plenty  as 
any  country  in  Europe,  premises  will  then  be  estab- 
lished, from  which,  by  my  reasoning,  we  shall  draw 
the  conclusion,  that  if  the  Aborigines  of  this  country 
are  infcriour  to  the  savages  of  other  parts  of  the  world, 
fiature  must  have  conti'adicted  her  ov/n  first  principles. 

But  the  contrary  must  appear  to  every  unprejudiced 
:nind,  both  from  reason  and  observation.  It  being 
[granted  that  the  savages  on  this  continent  possess  ge- 
lius  and  capacity,  equal  to  those  on  the  other,  my  ar- 
gument is  ended  ;  the  affirmative  of  the  question  is 
established  •,  unless  those  who  differ  from  m.e  should  be 
ible  to  show,  that,  by  some  process,  or  rather  paradox 
ji  nature,  the  mental  powers  of  our  forefathers  were 
legenerated  by  being  transplanted  to  a  soil,  at  least,  as 
:ongenial  and  fertile,  as  that  which  gave  them  birth. 

Should  it  be  any  longer  contended  against  me,  1 
jliould  still  appeal  to  facts,  and  rely  on  the  philosophi- 
:al  discoveries  and  miscellaneous  writings  of  a  Franklin, 
he  heroic  valour  and  sagacious  prudence  of  a  Wash- 
ngton,  the  political  researches  of  an  Adams,  the  nu- 
nerous  productions  in  polite  literature,  inventions  and 
mprovements  in  the  useful  arts;  and  especially  that 
ipirit  of  enterprise,  which  distinguishes   our  nation. 

On 


THE  COLUMBIAN  CRATOR.  297 

On  these  I  should  rely  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  my 
country,  and  to  combat  that  prejudice,  which  would 
degrade  the  capacity  and  genius  of  Americans. 

B.  I  have  heard  your  argument  with  patience,  and 
shall  answer  it  with  candour.  It  is  readily  granted,  that 
there  are  as  large  rivers,  extensive  lakes,  and  jolty 
mountains,  in  America,  as  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world  ;  but  I  ata  totally  unacquainted  with  the  art  of 
measuring  the  capaaty  and  genius  of  men,  by  the  height 
of  the  mountains  they  gaze  upon,  or  the  breadth  of  the 
river,  whose  margin  they  chance  to  inhabit. 

Whether  the  savages  of  our  deserts  possess  mental' 
powers  equal  to  those  of  other  countries,  is  as  foreign 
to  my  purpose,  as  the  Chimborazo,  Amazon,  or  La 
Plata.  I  shall  admit  your  premises,  and  look  tor  the 
materials  of  my  argument  on  a  ground  you  have  slight- 
ly passed  over,  to  confute  the  conclusion  you  have 
drawn  from  them.  . 

The  question  is,  whether  the  capacity  and  genius  ot 
Americans  is  equal  to  that  of  Europeans  ? 

Let  us  adopt  an  unexceptionable  rule ;  *'  Judge  the 
tree  by  its  fruit."  If  the  literary  productions  and 
works  of  genius  of  our  countrymen  are  found  superiour 
to  those  of  Europeans,  the  affirmative  of  the  question 
must  be  true  ;  if  inferiour,  the  negative,  without  argu- 
ment,  is  supported  by  fact. 

Here  the  balance  evidently  turns  in  my  favour. 
Europe  can  boast  its  masters  in  each  of  the  sciences, 
and  its  models  of  perfection  in  the  polite  arts.  Few 
Americans  pursue  the  path  of  science  ;  none  have  pro- 
gressed,  even  so  far  as  those  bold  and  persevering 
geniuses  of  other  countries,  who  have  removed  the  ob- 
stacles and  smoothed  the  way  before  them. 

If  there  chance  to  spring  up  among  us  one  whose  in- 
clination attaches  him  to  the  fine  arts,  the  beggar's  pit- 
tance, instead  of  fame  and  profit,  becomes  his  portion. 
He  is  an  exotic  plant, thatmust  be  removed  to  some  more 
congenial  soil,  or  perish  at  home  for  want  of  culture. 
It  is  far  from  mv  intentions  to  say   any  thing  m 

derogation 


S95  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

derogation  of  those  respectable  characters,  on  whotn 
you  rely  to  vindicate  the  literary  honor  of  our  country* 
But  what  will  be  the  result  of  a  comparison  between  £i 
few  correct  authors,  the  miscellaneous  productions, 
and  casual  discoveries,  which  we  boast  of  as  our  own, 
within  a  century  past ;  and  the  long  and  brilliant  cata- 
logue of  profound  scholars^  celebrated  writers,  and 
those  exquisite  specimens  of  taste  and  genius  in  the 
fine  arts,  w^hich  have  adorned  almost  every  country  of 
Europe,  within  the  same  period  ? 

This  comparison  would  be  disgraceful  indeed  to 
America.  It  is  granted,  that  her  sons  are  industrious^ 
brave,  and  enterprising  ;  but,  if  prudent,  they  will  cer- 
tainly decline  the  contest  with  most  European  nations, 
when  the  palm  of  genius  is  the  object  of  dispute. 

C.  Different  climates  undoubtedly  have  a  different 
effect  on  the  bodies  and  minds  of  those  who  inhabit 
them  ^  and  local  causes,  in  the  same  climate,  may  be 
favourable,  or  adverse  to  the  intellectual  powers. 

A  pure,  temperate  atmosphere,  and  romantic  scene- 
ry, are  productive  of  clear  intellects  and  brilliant  imagi- 
nation. America  is  far  from  being  deficient  in  these 
advantages.  The  oratory,  councils,  and  sagacity  of 
its  natives,  prove  that  their  conceptions  are  by  no 
means  ^cramped  by  physical  causes. 

This  being  granted,  which  cannot  be  denied,  it  will 
be  extremely  difficult  to  show  a  reason,  why  the  men- 
tal powers  of  our  ancestors,  or  their  descendants,  should 
suffer  a  decay  in  this  country,  so  favourable  by  nature 
to  sound  judgment  and  brilliancy  of  thought. 

Instead  of  forcing  ourselves  into  such  an  absurd  con- 
clusion, we  shall  make  an  obvious  distinction,  which 
will  lead  to  a  conclusion,  not  derogatory  to  the  Amer- 
ican character;  a  distinction  between  natural  genius, 
and  its  improvement  by  art.  One  depends  on  natural 
causes  ;  the  other,  on  the  state  of  society. 

With  a  well  supported  claim  to  the  former,  it  is  no 
dishonor  to  acknowledge  ourselves  inferiour  to  the  elder 
nations  of  Europe  in  the  latter.  Considering  the  in- 
fant 


THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR.     290 

lant  state  of  our  country,  and  the  nature  of  our  gov- 
ernment, we  have  more  reason  to  boast,  than  be  asham- 
ed of  our  progress  in  the  fine  arts. 

If  not  equal  m  this  respect,  to  our  mother  country, 
we  have  made  more  rapid  improvement  than  any  other 
nation  in  the  world.  Our  government  and  habits  are 
republican  ;  they  cherish  equal  rights,  and  tend  to  an 
equal  distribution  of  property.  Our  mode  of  education' 
has  the  same  tendency  to  promote  an  equal  distribution 
of  knowledge,  and  to  make  us  emphatically  a  "  repub- 
lic of  letters  :"  I  would  not  be  understood  adepts  in  the 
fine  arts,  but  participants  of  useful  knowledge.    " 

In  the  monarchical  and  aristocratic  governments  of 
Europe,  the  case  is  far  different.  A  few  privileged  or- 
ders monopolize  not  only  the  wealth  and  honors,  but 
the  knowledge  of  their  country.  They  produce  a  few 
profound  scholars,  who  make  study  the  business  of  their 
lives ;  we  acquire  a  portion  of  science,  as  a  necessary 
instrument  of  livelihood,  and  deem  it  absurd  to  devote 
our  wliole  lives  to  the  acquisition  of  implements,  with- 
out having  it  in  our  power  to  make  them  useful  to 
ourselves  or  others. 

They  have  their  thousands  who  are  totally  ignorant 
of  letters  ;  we  have  but  very  few,  who  are  not  instruct- 
ed in  the  rudiments  of  science.  They  may  boast  a 
small  number  of  masters  in  the  fine  arts ;  we  are  all 
scholars  in  the  useful ;  and  employed  in  improving  the 
works  of  nature,  rather  than  imitating  them. 

So  strong  is  our  propensity  to  useful  employments, 
and  so  sure  the  reward  of  those  who  pursue  them,  that 
necessity,  "  the  mother  of  invention,"  has  reared  but 
few  professional  poets,  painters,  or  musicians  among 
us.  Those,  who  have  occasionally  pursued  the  imitative 
arts,  from  natural  inclination,  have  given  sufficient 
proof,  that  even  in  them,  our  capacity  and  genius  are 
Jiot  inferiour  to  those  of  Europeans  ;  but  the  encourage- 
ment they  have  met  shows  that  the  s]:)irit  of  our  habits 
and  government  tends  rather  to  general  improvement  in 
the  useful,  than  partial  perfection  in  the  amusing  arts. 

.     ExiRACf 


300  THE  COLUMBIAN  ORATOR. 

'  '  '  ■  "       .■II...  I   <     I  - 

Extract  from  an  Oratiojv,  delivered  at  Bos- 
ton, March  5th,  1730;  by  Jonathan  Mason^ 
JuN.  Esq. 

^"^HE  rising  glory  of  this  western  hemisphere  is  al- 
X  ready  announced ;  and  she  is  summoned  to  iier 
seat  among  the  nations  of  the  earth.  We  have  pub- 
licly declared  ourselves  convinced  of  the  destructive 
tendency  of  standing  armies.  We  have  acknowledged 
the  necessity  of  public  spirit  and  the  love  of  virtue,  to 
the  happiness  of  any  people  ;  and  v/e  profess  to  be  sen- 
sible of  the  great  blessings  that  flow  from  them.  Let 
us  not  then  act  unworthily  of  the  reputable  character 
we  now  sustain.  Let  integrity  of  heart,  the^spirit  of 
freedom,  and  rigid  virtue  be  seen  to  actuate  every 
member  of  the  commonwealth. 

The  trial  of  our  patriotism  is  yet  before  us  ;  and  we 
have  reason  to  thank  iieaven,  that  its  principles  are 
so  well  known  and  diflused.  Exercise  towards  each 
other  the  benevolent  feelings  of  friendship ;  and  let 
that  unity  of  sentiment,  which  has  shone  in  the  field, 
be  equally  animating  in  our  councils.  Remember  that 
prosperity  is  dangerous  ;  that  though  successful,  we 
are  not  infallible. 

Let  this  sacred  maxim  receive  the  deepest  impression 
upon  our  minds,  that  if  avarice,  if  extortion,  if  luxury, 
and  political  corruption,  are  suffered  to  become  popu- 
lar among  us,  civil  discord,  and  the  ruin  of  our  coun- 
try will  be  the  speedy  consequence  of  such  fatal  vices. 
But  while  patriotism  is  the  leading  principle,  and  our 
laws  are  contrived  with  wisdom,  and  executed  with 
vigour;  while  industry,  frugality  and  temperance, 
are  held  in  estimation,  and  we  depend  upon  public 
spirit  and  the  love  of  virtue  for  our  social  happiness, 
peace  and  affluence  will  throw  their  smiles  upon  the 
bro.w  of  individuals  ;  our  cominoHwealth  will  flourish ; 
our  land  will  become  a  land  of  liberty,  and  AMERICA 
an  asylum  for  the  oppressed.  ^ 

END, 


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